


ROYGBiV

by somerainycosmos



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst and Humor, Feels, Fluff, M/M, Slow Burn, Work In Progress, klangst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-05-28 17:51:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 22,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15054563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somerainycosmos/pseuds/somerainycosmos
Summary: Lance is an aspiring modern artist with a passion for color and a flamboyant personality he believes can win anyone over. But when he meets newcomer Keith in his workshop class, he realizes his classic charms may not be enough to win over this brooding, mysterious artist who doesn’t really seem to follow any style except for his own. Keith could be the key to unlocking Lance’s current crippling artist’s block. Is friendship (or something more) on the horizon for these two artists? Or will competition over a scholarship, secrets, and past conflicts create more barriers than they can overcome?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Colleen (my love and heart)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Colleen+%28my+love+and+heart%29).



> alright guys, this fic has been my brainchild for I cannot TELL you how long, and I'm so glad I can now share this mess of linguistics and softness with you! I hope you enjoy the adventures of Lance and Keith as they awkwardly try to win the other's hearts <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is an aspiring modern artist with a passion for color and a flamboyant personality he believes can win anyone over. But when he meets newcomer Keith in his workshop class, he realizes his classic charms may not be enough to win over this brooding, mysterious artist who doesn’t really seem to follow any style except for his own. Keith could be the key to unlocking Lance’s current crippling artist’s block. Is friendship (or something more) on the horizon for these two artists? Or will competition over a scholarship, secrets, and past conflicts create more barriers than they can overcome?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yeah the chapters are a touch short right now, but bear with me!! promise that they'll get longer in the future :)

"Damn," Lance muttered to himself for about the millionth time today.

He'd had a hell of a time trying to get the right shade of indigo mixed for this painting he was working on, and every color he added pushed him farther and farther from the color he was aiming for.  
He sighed, swiping a paper towel across the palette again and started from scratch.

Professor Coran cast him a curious glance as Lance grabbed the colors he needed and stared daggers onto the blank canvas, wishing for a smoother start to this painting.  
He heaved another sigh of frustration and set the colors down.

"I'll just sketch some more..."

He mumbled to himself, feeling defeated. When the class had ended, he threw his supplies and paper into his bag and stalked out the door without another glance the mocking abyss of a canvas behind him.

"Why art school? I could have decided to pursue any other, less frustrating, less demanding major. But no- I choose to spend my time with photography nerds and art divas," he thought as he pressed through the blustery afternoon and onto his dorm room.

Surely Hunk, his roommate, would have food and some kind of hot drink ready.  
Fiddling with his keys, Lance let himself in and flopped dramatically onto his bed.  
Hunk chuckled at the sight of his roommate in such a state, even though he knew immediately where the frustration was coming from.

"Indigo again?"

Hunk asked innocently, ignoring the almost-scream of frustration Lance released into his pillow.

"I DON'T WANT TO HEAR THAT WORD," was the muffled response a few moments later. Lance felt a knee nudge him gently, and sat straight up.  
He grinned broadly at the plate of cookies Hunk handed to him and gratefully shoved two in his mouth.

"Fanks Hunf," Lance smiled from behind a mouthful of chocolate chip.

Rolling his eyes, Hunk sat down behind his laptop again. "Don't mention it. I know this painting's been giving you major headaches. Any reason you don't start on a new idea and save my ingredients?"

Lance stared, wide-eyed, at his grinning friend. "It's a good thing I've known you for a while or else I'd think you were serious."

Hunk shrugged lightly, already pulling up tabs and plugging in earbuds. "I like to be surprising sometimes."

Lance finished chewing his latest mouthful of cookie before throwing himself back down on his comforter. "Sometimes I wish I could let this one go. But every time I try new sketches, I'm so distracted. I keep going back to this same scene in my head; indigo sky with stars above the curve of the earth."

Even though Lance can't see his face, he can envision Hunk's thoughtful expression as the typing pauses.

"Kind of structured for you. Don't you usually like more color-focused , abstract stuff?"  
Burying his hands in his hair and dragging them down his face, Lance let out another groan of frustration.

"I KNOW RIGHT?? It's so different than what's usually in my head, but I can't get it out."

"Keep eating cookies. All shall be made clear....."

Hunk's teasing tone faded as he lost himself in his work again.

Lance smiled into the heels of his hands. Why a culinary aficionado like Hunk would want to pursue a degree in aerospace engineering of all things was beyond him. But, he supposed, the same confusion was probably shared by his best friend when Lance prattled on about modern art and the limitations of charcoal drawing. "Art hotties" may have initially peaked his curiosity at school, but soon, painting had caught his attention more than any girl or guy (as he had also discovered) with a paintbrush. Something he never thought he'd hear himself say...


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is an aspiring modern artist with a passion for color and a flamboyant personality he believes can win anyone over. But when he meets newcomer Keith in his workshop class, he realizes his classic charms may not be enough to win over this brooding, mysterious artist who doesn’t really seem to follow any style except for his own. Keith could be the key to unlocking Lance’s current crippling artist’s block. Is friendship (or something more) on the horizon for these two artists? Or will competition over a scholarship, secrets, and past conflicts create more barriers than they can overcome?

When Lance woke up the next morning, it wasn't the normal obnoxious ring of his alarm clock. Instead, furious knocking was pounding on the door.

"Hey! Aren't either of you sloths up yet??"

Lance stumbled over to the door and blearily unlocked it.  
Oh.  
Pidge.

"Hello Lance. I didn't wake you did I?" Pidge asked, smirking.

Lance stared at her, trying but failing to hide his smile. Pidge may irritate him and wake him up at ungodly hours of the morning, but he still adopted her as his unofficial little sister... much to her brother Matt's encouragement and Pidge's chagrin.  
Lance stepped back and grandly ushered her inside, too tired to try to trip her this morning.

"What do you need from Hunk now?" Lance queried sleepily, trying to lock the door without shutting his finger in the frame as well.

"Calculus 3 is kicking my ass. I need Hunk's brain and A+ coffee to get me kickstarted before our lecture today."

Lance nodded. Hunk's espresso blend was a force to be reckoned with.

"Well since I'm up and somewhat alert, might as well go outside and smell the roses."

Pidge cocked her head while also avoiding Hunk huge hand attempting to swat her away from his bed.

"Roses, huh? Not all those athletic guys romping around campus getting in an early morning jog?"

Lance winked at her as he disappeared into the bathroom for his skincare routine.

"Bi is life hon. You should try it sometime."

She smirked and called after him before he could close the door, "You might catch Shiro and Allura out on their run. Have fun!"

Lance groaned from in front on the mirror. He might love Shiro and his girlfriend, but sometimes, high-functioning and beautiful couples were downright infuriating.

Grabbing his jacket, bag, and a beanie for good measure, Lance wished a swift farewell to Pidge and Hunk (who were already deep in calculations and caffeine) and flew out the door. Surprisingly, the brisk walk woke him up a bit more as he strolled the campus.  
He squinted dejectedly at a patch of indigo flowers that mocked him with their breathtaking color as he stiffly stalked by.

Sure enough, Shiro and Allura came jogging down the path, laughing at some joke or maybe just at the sheer volume of zombie-students trudging to early classes. Lance raised a hand in greeting, and weirdly, they both stopped.

He eyed then curiously, "Hi..?"

"Lance! I don't want to make you late, are you on your way to class?",  
Allura worriedly questioned, and Lance had to bite back a laugh at how mom-esque her question sounded.

"Don't worry, Pidge got me out of bed a bit earlier than normal and I decided to kill some time."  
Shiro chuckled, "I'm not sure I've ever seen you out here before 11:00, I was worried you might be sick."

"Ha ha,” Lance deadpanned, a smile spreading across his lips despite himself. "I'm guessing there's something you guys need to ask, or else you wouldn't have stopped to tease."

Allura grinned and turned to Shiro for the explanation.

"My little brother is transferring here from another university. He's a sophomore like you, he got expelled from the school he was at before. Since he doesn't know anyone, we wanted to introduce you guys and hopefully make his transition a little less..."

Shiro's face was caught between a grimace and a smile, "...rough. He's got a bit of a temper. Anyway, we wanted to catch you now to see if next Friday was a good time for you, Pidge, and Hunk to all come to our place and hang out for a bit. We'll have food and liquor if that makes the offer a bit more inviting.”

Lance quirked an eyebrow.

"You had me at food, you guys. I'll make sure their schedules are clear."  
A devilish grin appeared on his face. "If he's as cute as you, Shiro, you'll have a hell of a time keeping me away."

Allura giggled at Shiro's flushed expression.

"We'll see you guys then, Lance," Allura said, still grinning as she led a perplexed Shiro away and shook her head.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is an aspiring modern artist with a passion for color and a flamboyant personality he believes can win anyone over. But when he meets newcomer Keith in his workshop class, he realizes his classic charms may not be enough to win over this brooding, mysterious artist who doesn’t really seem to follow any style except for his own. Keith could be the key to unlocking Lance’s current crippling artist’s block. Is friendship (or something more) on the horizon for these two artists? Or will competition over a scholarship, secrets, and past conflicts create more barriers than they can overcome?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hang in there guys we're breaking the 1k mark soon! Little bit of slow going these first few chapters but I promise it's coming!!

History of Classical Art had never gone faster. Maybe this was why some people don't stay out late partying and actually force themselves out of bed before noon, Lance wondered to himself.

Unfortunately, his temporary high was proving to be just that: temporary.

He found himself in workshop staring back at this same canvas, making the same noises of frustration his fellow artists no doubt found troubling to say the least... He was about to tear through the blank page and blame his lack of color-mixing skills on the paper itself when he heard Professor Coran clear his throat.

"Class, attention please!"

Lance did little to smother his grin as he noticed the smattering of blue and red paint decorating the professor's ginger mustache (everyone noticed it but loved the professor too much to point it out to him).

"We have a new student in this class, Keith..."

Coran's words faded as Lance stared at the newcomer. He was dressed in tight black pants (leggings maybe??) , boots, and a red jacket cut off at the midriff. His ears and eyebrow were pierced with a variety of black accessories. A black mullet trailed down the back of his neck and messy bangs cut parts of his face from view. His posture was defensive; hands crossed over his chest and leaning back on his hip as if he'd rather be anywhere but at the front of the room, scanning the students with eyes-

Oh no.

Lance blinked once, then a few more times.

Like it or not, he was going to have to get to know this guy; he had the indigo Lance so desperately needed. Lance was prepared to kill for those indigo eyes, so when they inevitably met his own, he held the stare confidently, drinking in and memorizing the shade as best he could.

There was his indigo. That's what he'd been waiting for.  
~~~~~~~~

After a few more introductory statements (not that Lance heard anything), Coran instructed Keith to find a seat and settle in with his supplies.

A few girls made it their mission to make the open seats next to them as obvious as possible, but instead, Keith headed straight for the seat next to Lance. Lance tried to catch his gaze again, but Keith's eyes were set on the floor and didn't shift from that spot until students started talking and going about their business again. 

Lance shifted so that his body faced this stranger and smiled as dashingly as he could muster because damn, this boy was something to look at.

"Hiya, the name's Lance. What brings you to Coran's Corner of Creation?" he joked with a lopsided grin. 

Keith gave him a look.

"Lance, huh?"

Lance shifted a smidge in his seat, determined to remain unphased despite Keith's unrelenting stare.

"Don't wear it out." His wink was rewarded with another look. Didn't this kid know that there are other facial expressions out there?

"Well, Lance,"

Lance narrowed his gaze a bit at the altered tone,

"I'm not here to make friends or become your art buddy; you're gonna do your thing, and I'll do mine. Got it?"

Traditionally, Lance was never lost for words. But in this instance, he found himself utterly speechless in Keith's 180 degree attitude change.

Keith evidently wasn't expecting an answer as he pulled out a sketch pad from his black (no surprise there) backpack, got out some headphones, and proceeded to ignore Lance for the rest of the session.

~~~~~

Lance was prickly for the rest of the day as a result of his bizarre encounter with the new self-proclaimed "angst king" in his class. The next day wasn't much different; Keith spent most of the time making sketches and blasting his music in his earbuds.

When Lance had steeled himself for another attempt at conversation the day after, he found that Keith's already gloomy attitude had sharpened into irritation and moodiness. Nevertheless, he decided to try again.

He peeked over Keith's shoulder, "Whatcha working on?"

Keith snapped his sketch pad shut and fixed Lance with a steely glare.

"What do you think you're doing??"

Lance threw his hands up in surrender.

"Looking? At your ideas?"

Keith's eyes bored into Lance's.

"And did I say you could?"

Lance's face quirked into a smile despite himself at the slight ridiculousness of this argument.

"My bad," He said, still smirking, "just wanted to see what had you all worked up. Didn't know faces could look that frustrated without pulling a muscle or something."

Keith bristled, "My face is..." he began, trailing off as words eluded him.  
Lance grinned, seeing his opportunity.

"Well I could finish that sentence for you, but I don't know how good a blush would look with that scowl."

Keith's face was caught between surprise and embarrassment as he spluttered for a retort. Just like that, Lance had him.

He gently plucked the sketch pad out of Keith's hands, ignoring the sounds of shock and rage that Keith was emitting at an alarming rate.

He flipped to the page Keith was working on, easily deflecting his attempts to grab it back. 

"Woah..." Lance breathed.

It was angry, sure. But there was a beauty in the chaos and blackened charcoal lines. Keith was drawing an eye, with its iris made up of a crumbling cityscape constructed of sharp lines and slashes. A blood red was woven into the work, and it appeared to be the only color outside of the black and white monochrome. In Lance’s moment of distraction, Keith seized the pad back, his face a dangerous shade of red.

Just then, they were dismissed.

"If you could kindly lay off, that would be greatly appreciated," Keith spat, roughly shoving his books into his bag and leaving the room in a whirlwind of red and black.  
Admittedly, Lance might have overstepped his bounds.

But he needed that indigo. This was just... an alternative way of getting it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is an aspiring modern artist with a passion for color and a flamboyant personality he believes can win anyone over. But when he meets newcomer Keith in his workshop class, he realizes his classic charms may not be enough to win over this brooding, mysterious artist who doesn’t really seem to follow any style except for his own. Keith could be the key to unlocking Lance’s current crippling artist’s block. Is friendship (or something more) on the horizon for these two artists? Or will competition over a scholarship, secrets, and past conflicts create more barriers than they can overcome?

Lance sauntered into class the next day full of confidence. Unfortunately, his good mood hit a wall when he saw Keith (miraculously, still sitting next to him) with the equivalent of a thundercloud hanging over him. The kid looked positively murderous as he stared daggers into his sketch pad, like he was trying to intimidate it into producing different results.

Lance knew the frustration.

He slid into his seat, prepared to make a suave recovery from hijacking Keith's sketch pad yesterday when Keith fixed his gaze on Lance and held it.

"Before you say anything, I want to make one thing clear."

Lance let an easy smile play out across his mouth.

"Go for it, tiger."

Keith pressed his lips together in obvious frustration.

"Don't call me that."

Lance considered this.

"Kitty, then?"

Keith's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to respond.

"Kitty it is."

Lance decided, ignoring Keith's angry protest.

"NO NAME CALLING."

"Calm down Kitty, didn't you want to ask me something?"

Keith looked beyond rage as Lance teased him.

Indigo eyes with some lightening.

"I don't want you talking to me all the time and trying to-", Keith fumbled for words for a moment, “-distract me from my work.”

Again, Lance failed to hide his smirk.

"What makes a little Kitty like you so determined to be a loner?"

Keith smothered his undoubtedly impulsive comment as he met Lance's gaze and considered his response before speaking.

"Because. I’d rather not explain myself and my art to you for an hour and a half every day. We’re not friends.”

Lance tilted his head.

"We'll see how that goes, cutie. I have an idea that the two of us could make quite the pair."

Keith's eyes widened and damn, Lance could have sworn his moody, bad-boy persona came crumbling down for just a moment as a blush crept up his neck. But just like that, he turned and crammed his earbuds back in and Lance was treated to a My Chemical Romance concert for the remainder of the class.

~~~~~~~~

Lance was starting to develop a dangerous mixture of obsession and flat-out dislike for this Keith guy.

The next week, Keith abandoned his sketch pad and confidently began to transfer his images onto the canvas. His pencil drawings were making their way onto the paper quickly, and Lance's canvas was looking even more sparse than usual. In an act of sheer desperation, Lance had started sketching the curve of the earth on his canvas, but the gaping expanse of sky mocked him as he mixed greens and yellows for his landscape.

Keith's painting was coming along swimmingly, and the other students, Professor Coran included, started taking notice. Lance could feel a surge of jealousy as he watched his top spot in the class being pulled right out from under him by some emo kid with a vision. Keith had added in his charcoal accents and the crumbling cityscape seemed to come alive with every half-hazard stroke of Keith's hand.

The smudging was so deliberate.

His chaos had a vision.

Lance noticed that red had snuck its way into distinct areas of buildings, adding more depth to the picture. He often snuck glances back at Keith as the days rolled on, but the indigo kept eluding him despite his best efforts.

Both Keith and Lance were pretty done with each other by the time next Friday rolled around.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is an aspiring modern artist with a passion for color and a flamboyant personality he believes can win anyone over. But when he meets newcomer Keith in his workshop class, he realizes his classic charms may not be enough to win over this brooding, mysterious artist who doesn’t really seem to follow any style except for his own. Keith could be the key to unlocking Lance’s current crippling artist’s block. Is friendship (or something more) on the horizon for these two artists? Or will competition over a scholarship, secrets, and past conflicts create more barriers than they can overcome?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alrighty lads, finally broken that 1.5k mark!! (patience payed off, hmm?) thank you for the kind comments and kudos, I literally never expected this!! you guys rock :)))

Lance flung open his door with an air of mixed rage and determination.

"ALRIGHT HUNK. GET UP LETS GO, ITS TIME TO BE CIVILIZED AND TALK ABOUT OUR FUTURES AND GET DRUNK OFF OUR ASSES."

Hunk groaned, half-heartedly flipping his laptop screen down and standing up to stretch.

"I think you mean YOU are about to go get drunk. I have stuff to do this weekend; I’m not about to lose Saturday to a hangover."

Lance wearily eyed him in disbelief.

"Listen, after the two weeks I've had, I'd be willing to get myself toasted on cheap beer if that's all I had to work with. And that's a time investment right there."

Hunk chuckled, attempting to find a jacket amidst the clutter of their room.

"I'm sure you can make it through the night without draining all the liquid in your body."

He clapped a hand on Lance's slumped shoulders.

"Come on, don't want Shiro and Allura to be waiting on us."

Lance grumbled but allowed his big friend to lead him out the door.

~~~~~

Smiles on their faces and damming back the flood of a semester’s worth of exhaustion, Lance, Hunk, and Pidge all greeted Shiro and Allura outside of their couple’s cottage on the outskirts of campus.

They were quickly ushered inside (Allura made it clear that she wouldn't be responsible for any of them catching a cold due to the windy night) and were soon grabbing plates and cups. Shiro immediately began grilling Hunk about how his degree was coming along and Allura followed suit, peppering Pidge with all kinds of questions about robotics engineering and how NASA was going to snap up if she kept going the way she was going.

Lance drifted on the edges of conversation, catching snippets here and there as he sipped some wine that the couple had put out. As he was wandering and immersed in his own thoughts, the doorbell rang.

"Oh! I bet that's Keith,” Shiro said, getting to his feet and moving towards the door.

Wait.

No.

Oh... no.

"Did you say-" Lance began, rushing after Shiro and trying not to knock anything over as he slipped across the house. But he was cut off when the group gathered around the door and Shiro opening it saying, "Everyone, this is my little brother, Keith."

Lance felt like his head was being pushed underwater as all the enthusiastic "hello's" were suddenly drowned out.

This was just his luck.

A rare smile flitted across Keith's lips as he was introduced to the grinning group, but all expressions of happiness soured as his indigo irises landed on Lance (who made sure to stand up a little straighter and emphasize the height difference between them).

Shiro looked confused as he saw the pair of them glare contemptuously at one another.  
"Keith... you don't happen to... already know Lance, do you?"

Lance smirked. "We've been previously acquainted in our art workshop. You know, that class I spend an hour and a half in every single day. You get to know your classmates."

If Lance didn't know any better, he'd say a touch of blush dusted across Keith's cheeks as he listened to Lance.

Keith looked pointedly at Shiro.

"We've met."

He then proceeded to stalk past him and leave the rest of the party in curious silence. Lance sassily lifted his chin towards Shiro.

"You could teach your little brother a thing or two about manners, you know."

~~~~~~~~

The rest of the evening went by smoothly enough. Small talk about life choices and irritating professors stretched on, and Lance made a conscious effort to appear as interesting as possible when he detailed his class schedule and the ruckus he caused in ceramics class every Tuesday.

Keith looked less than impressed.

However, Keith did seem to light up when Shiro asked he about his recent work.

Lance got to learn a couple of things. 

Apparently, Keith specialized in charcoal and ink art. He had taken an interest in classic Korean painting and made an effort to incorporate the style (thick, textured lines, muted colors, and rough brush strokes) into his painting. However, he modernized the style by using purely black and white with only one dominant color on the canvas to highlight it. 

As he explained his work, Lance noticed Keith casting periodic glances his way and was apparently searching for some kind of reaction from Lance. 

The topic flowed from Keith to Pidge to Hunk, and Lance sipped his drink while he halfway listened. 

In fact, the party slowly seemed to drain away as Lance got lost in his own thoughts.

Did he really misread Keith? Is it possible that Keith’s hostility towards him wasn’t misplaced affection, but actually disgust at being flirted with by a guy?

The thought made Lance grimace.

It was hard enough to accept the fact that he was bisexual and then forced to come out to his family, but being confident enough to judge whether or not guys were interested in him?

Entirely different story.

Conversation slowly drifted away, and the soft background music Shiro and Allura had put on trickled into nothingness as well.

All at once, he was very aware of Keith’s eyes resting on him, and a tentative expression of warmth settled on him like a blanket.

For the first time, when he met Keith’s gaze, he didn’t feel the anger and turmoil sweep through him like usual.

In the brief moment his eyes met indigo, he felt a prick of curiosity and interest from Keith before his favorite angsty emo hurriedly averted his gaze.

Lance noticed something, though. Dark smudges of leftover eyeliner were left on the outer rims of Keith’s eyes, almost wiped away, but not quite. He got the feeling Keith had put it on but changed his mind and smeared it off last minute before he left. Rolling the thought over in his head, Lance excused himself to get a drink from the kitchen.

Clattering glasses around, he almost didn’t hear the soft thunk of combat boots on the floor behind him as he hummed and got some ice.

He jumped as a slender finger gently tapped his shoulder and the ice flew from his hands and glass and came tumbling onto the floor.

“What the- KEITH!”

Keith looked shocked for a second but fumbled to clean up the melting mess.  
“Sorry, sorry!”

Lance sighed as he helped him.

“It’s alright, no big-“ their heads knocked together as they bent over to get the last of the ice.

“Ow!”

They both tried to stand up, but Lance’s legs got tangled up with Keith’s as they lost their balance and tumbled to the floor.

Lance started giggling when he found that Keith had managed to land on top of him in their epic expression of kitchen clumsiness. Despite himself, Keith smiled as Lance continued to laugh and covered his head with his hood in mock shame.

Lance grinned and fixed his eyes on the boy still on top of him; apparently unable to shift himself off.

“Looks like you really fell for me, huh?”

Lance couldn’t contain himself as his laughter split the air again, but he stopped abruptly as Keith’s laugh joined his too.

It was quiet, but light and easy, as if he wanted to laugh more frequently but had kept it pent up.

Until now, that is.

Keith rolled off and laid on his back next to Lance; the two of them giggling and snorting like they had been friends forever. No art rivalry on this kitchen floor.

Lance caught his breath as he flipped on his side to look at Keith.

“What-“ he gasped between laughs, “-did you even want before you scared me half to death?”

Keith grinned, shaking from laughter.

“I was-“

He cut himself off with giggles.

“I was going to-“

“Umm.. guys.. were you... fighting?”

The pair fell silent and slowly shifted their gaze upward to find... Shiro??

They scrambled to their feet.

“No!” Keith practically shouted, moving as far away from Lance as the small space would allow. A furious blush swept across his cheeks.

“I was just leaving and I was trying to say goodbye, ok?? GOODBYE!”

Keith did manage to shout that last word as he sprinted past Shiro to grab his things.  
The rest of the party looked at Keith in confusion as he grabbed his jacket and whirled around to face his older brother.

“Thanks for the welcoming party, but I should be able to study just fine at my own apartment, alone,” He added pointedly.

Lance stood, his mouth agape, as Keith flung open the door and speed-walked off in the early twilight without so much as a glance back. His drink sat abandoned on the coffee table.

Shiro sighed, walking back into the living room and picked up the glass from the wood.

“Just when I thought he was starting to relax a little bit.”

Shiro fixed his gaze on Lance.

“You weren’t fighting, were you??”

Lance snorted, trying to maintain his composure despite the whirlwind of thoughts blazing through his head.

“Of course not! Just a little spill, that’s all.”

Shiro looked doubtful, but before he could ask any more questions, Lance sped into the lounge and yanked Hunk up from the plate of snacks he was eyeing.

“Ok Hunk, I think it’s TIME TO GO.”

Hunk couldn’t even get a full protest out before Lance grabbed their things, announcing, “Remember, you have those COOKIES IN THE OVEN.”

He stared at Hunk pointedly for a second before his friend caught on.

“Ohhh, yeah! Cookies! Right!”, Hunk said a little too enthusiastically.

While trying not to trip over Lance basically pushing him out the door, Hunk managed to say over his shoulder, “Have a lovely night everyone, see ya Pidge!”

Pidge looked somewhat distraught to have been abandoned and left to third-wheel alone with Allura and Shiro, but Lance would make it up to her later.

He closed the door behind him and started marching in the direction of the dorm, ignoring Hunk’s complaining and reviewing the night’s events in his brain, trying to make sense of... anything.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is an aspiring modern artist with a passion for color and a flamboyant personality he believes can win anyone over. But when he meets newcomer Keith in his workshop class, he realizes his classic charms may not be enough to win over this brooding, mysterious artist who doesn’t really seem to follow any style except for his own. Keith could be the key to unlocking Lance’s current crippling artist’s block. Is friendship (or something more) on the horizon for these two artists? Or will competition over a scholarship, secrets, and past conflicts create more barriers than they can overcome?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so not sure if I've shared this with you guys yet, but my typical upload days are Monday and Friday, give or take a few because I'm l i t e r a l l y the most forgetful person on the planet. more chapters coming up, one more to go until we're all caught up! uploads won't become soooo sporadic in the future :0 miracle of miracles. thanks again for all the support!!

Lance’s dreams were spun up and wild. He could barely remember any of them the next morning. His classes dragged by, but Lance found himself drawn taunt with anticipation when his workshop class came around.

He slid in his seat next to Keith, who had his earbuds blaring as usual. Lance decided to try an alternative method to get his creative juices flowing - throwing paint straight at the damn canvas.

Alright so maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, Lance admitted to himself.

“Maybe I’ll just combine every color and see what happens,” he mused aloud.

Keith gave him a sort of “Wtf, are you crazy”, look, but almost gave himself whiplash turning away the second Lance shifted to face him.

Lance allowed himself a small smirk. If he couldn’t be an artist, maybe he could be a... flirtations director?

“Insane fantasies are in fact a byproduct of artist’s block,” he thought… in his head this time.  
Keith visibly upped the volume on his earbuds but seemed to draw himself out of his haze when Coran silently motioned him over to his desk. Lance guessed Keith decided to wait to make himself deaf until after he talked to his professor. He stared after him as Keith got up to see what the Coran needed, but something distracted him.

Keith hadn’t turned his music off.

Normally this wouldn’t be anything special, but Keith had turned the volume up so loudly that Lance could just make out snippets of the melody. Although tinny, the sound floated up and tugged at Lance with intensity he wasn’t used to when he heard new music. He was immediately struck by the song. Lance could see the faintest wisps of color as he closed his eyes and strained to listen to the words, but he couldn’t hear anything clearly. 

In that moment, Lance wanted nothing more than to be rid of this horrible artist’s block no matter what the consequences were. He was picking up color and he wasn’t even trying. Sounds that were barely more than a whisper were dizzying his head with possibility and-

Screw it.

Without thinking or hesitation, he snatched the phone and shoved the earbuds in. Checking one last time to make sure Keith was preoccupied, Lance started the song over and let the music wash over him. Crashing guitar… tumbling lyrics… Lance had never heard gotten the chance to truly listen to words from songs Keith blared every day. He looked at the title.

Alone Together

Fitting, in its own sense.

As the song picked up pace, Lance finally locked onto the color: rust, with cool, dark notes of blue veining through the song like a gem half-excavated from a playlist. Lance rushed to grab paint and hurriedly started mixing. He had a short amount of time before Keith came back and he would be forced to explain himself. He snatched a small, blank sheet of canvas, the proper colors, and did his best to ignore the curious looks from his classmates as he started to paint.

Yes, finally. Colors that actually wanted to work properly.

Lance confidently added blue onto the page and started to lose himself in the song and the rapid, hurried brushstrokes. Knots of color became more concentrated and deliberate, his instincts taking over. Lance was so grateful for a distraction that was actually proving to be somewhat successful that he didn’t notice Keith slowly, deliberately, walk over.

He didn’t notice Keith turn to look at the canvas, his face a blend of anger and intrigue.

He didn’t notice Keith until he gently tugged an earbud out of Lance’s ear and caught the final bars of the song as it faded out after Lance’s third replay.

Lance jumped, knocking over some bottles and smearing the paintbrush he held aloft across his cheek.

“Gah!”

Keith stood silent, gazing at the flustered Lance who was floundering for words. Lance blushed furiously, cursing karma for putting him in the same situation he had put Keith in time and time again: caught off guard and completely exposed.

Just as Lance opened his mouth to diffuse the moment of tension that threatened to stretch on, Keith’s mouth quirked upwards in an amused, shy grin.

He reached forward and Lance’s breath caught in his throat. In a surprisingly gentle brush of his fingertips, Keith smeared a bit of blue paint from Lance’s cheek onto his fingertips and studied it.

Lance was struggling to focus.

Keith finally shifted his indigo gaze back to Lance and met his eyes with a spark of confidence.

“I think... you’ve got a little something here,” Keith breathed as he leaned closer.

Lance didn’t know that people in real life could smell like lavender and patchouli incense, but then again, this day was unfolding to be something a little different that usual.

Keith held his gaze for a moment longer, smearing the paint distractedly between his fingertips. He pulled away and Lance inexplicably leaned forwards to fill the gap. Keith’s attention seemed diverted for a moment and after a beat, Lance realized class had ended and students were filing out.

He turned back to Keith, but he had already swept up his things and was moving quickly towards the door. Lance numbly touched the smear of blue on his cheek that had been freshly imprinted with Keith’s fingerprints.

“Alone Together,” he mouthed silently, and gazed back at the smatter of color drying on the canvas. 

This one’s a keeper.

~~~~~

Lance was significantly less vocal during the next workshop class. He still felt a little embarrassed for hijacking Keith’s phone and didn’t want to risk a blow up in front of the whole class.

Keith was silent, but his silence wasn’t as... aggressive as usual.

Can silence be aggressive?

Lance mulled this notion over, but cutting another glance across at Keith, he decided the answer was most definitely yes. He was faced with his blank canvas again, and he was starting to resent this idea that has been burning in the back of his head for so long.   
He drifted off into space, contemplating some way to kick start some fresh paint-mixing strength, when Keith abruptly dropped his phone and earbuds next to him, stood up, and hustled out the door.

Lance craned his neck over his canvas to look after him.

“Where is he running to now?” Lance numbed, trailing off when he realized he was speaking aloud. 

But then something caught his attention. Keith had left his phone blaring on full volume again, and the album cover was visible on the screen.

Was it possible... Keith had left this for him?

Lance shook away the thought as soon as it popped into his head.

“That really is insane,” he thought. Keith almost strangled him yesterday, there’s no way he would willingly leave his phone out for him.

Nevertheless, he grabbed the phone despite his doubts. Lance glanced at the title, Quarter Past Midnight, and melted into the singer’s smoky voice. 

We keep on running, running through the red light, like we’re trying to burn the night away…

Lance smiled at the extremely Keith-esque lyric. How appropriate.

Lamplight shining on rain-stained pavement. Combat boots pounding sidewalks and midnight blue swimming in a drizzle. 

Got it. 

Again, Lance raced throughout the room, narrowly avoiding knocking over an easel in his attempts to gather supplies. He made it back to his seat in record time. He barely noticed Keith give a quick glance down to see Lance holding his phone and get busy with his sketch pad as if nothing had happened.

When the class was over, Lance absent-mindedly set the device next to him as he turned to remove his painting, but when he turned back, the phone (along with Keith) was gone. 

It happened again the next day.

And the day after that.

And the day after that. 

Again and again, Keith left his phone right where Lance could reach it in a variety of creative ways; dropping it and not picking it up, leaving it on Lance’s seat before he sat down, and even hiding it under Lance’s supplies with the music blaring at full volume so he could hear every word. 

20 Dollar Nose Bleed

Creature Comfort

Bleeding Out

I’m Not Ok (I Promise)

Ode to Sleep

Danger

7 Minutes in Heaven 

Helena

18

Immortals 

For weeks they danced around talking to each other and chose to only communicate through the songs Keith provided. Eventually, Lance started shuffling through the playlist Keith had (apparently) created for him and tried his best to find some kind of meaning behind all the lyrics.

The only thing he knew for sure was that Keith was watching him.

Not in a stalker-y way… just as if Keith wanted to see what Lance was creating with every crash and fall of the songs. They had found a peaceful rhythm in those weeks that Lance was tentative to disrupt, no matter how much he sometimes wanted to take a step further in this… friendship?

Is that what this was?

Is that where they would stop?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is an aspiring modern artist with a passion for color and a flamboyant personality he believes can win anyone over. But when he meets newcomer Keith in his workshop class, he realizes his classic charms may not be enough to win over this brooding, mysterious artist who doesn’t really seem to follow any style except for his own. Keith could be the key to unlocking Lance’s current crippling artist’s block. Is friendship (or something more) on the horizon for these two artists? Or will competition over a scholarship, secrets, and past conflicts create more barriers than they can overcome?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (apologies in advance for leaving you, dear reader, on a cliffhanger....... but I'm very confident you'll be pleased with the results!) as you've probably noticed, the chapters are sticking at a word count between 1.5 and 2k, and that's most likely where they'll remain until this fic is finished. just wanted to give you a head's up - enjoy!

“HUUNNKKK!” Lance whine as his friend stacked his textbooks strewn around their dorm.

“It’s Friday night! You can’t leave me all by myself! Whatever happened to you promising to go out with me??” 

Hunk shot Lance an exasperated look.

“Since when does saying ‘sure, I’ll think about going out sometime’ translate to, ‘I swear on the life of my engineering future that I’m absolutely positively going to a party the night before a surprise Calculus extra credit assignment is due’?” 

Lance stuck out his lip and pouted.

“No fair…” he groaned, watching his chance at not going stag to another party slip away. 

“Pidge and I both really need a bit of grade padding for this particular professor. But I’ll make it up to you, don’t worry.” Hunk promised as he grabbed his coat and keys.

“You better,” Lance mumbled half-heartedly as he let a smile lip onto his face and waved Hunk out the door. 

“You might want to think about picking up a bit of extra credit yourself, you know!” Hunk called as Lance attempted to shut their door after him.

“Yeah, right! I can study on Sunday like all the other normal students in the world!”

“Don’t wait up!”

“If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t have to!!! Tell Pidge I said that she’s ruining my party plans again!”

With that closing note, Lance shut the door and flopped down on his bed, trying and failing to come up with an alternative way to spend his unexpectedly free evening. 

It couldn’t have been five minutes before he heard rapid knocking banging at the door.

Lance heaved a heavy sigh and let out a groan of frustration. 

“I know for a fact that you picked up your keys Hunk, there’s absolutely no way you could have forgotten anything-“ Lance flung open the door to reveal, “-KEITH?”

Lance blinked in shock. Nope, Keith was still there, standing somewhat awkwardly in the hallway. He looked as surprised as Lance felt.

“I want to know how you do it.”

Lance was still reeling from his surprise visitor. 

“Do- do what??”

Keith looked frustrated, gesturing wildly with his hands as he grasped for words.

“You know, the thing!!”

Now it was Lance’s turn to look frustrated. 

“What do mean, the thing?? That statement leaves a little room for interpretation, don’t you think?!”

Keith flattened his arms against his sides and took a breath. When he spoke, it was softer and tinged with curiosity.

“The… the song thing. With the colors and the music and the…” he trailed off, nonverbally pleading with Lance to explain, “…the thing. I want to know how you do it.”

Lance let his gaze soften, realizing what Keith meant. However, his initial confusion at what Keith was talking about was quickly replaced by a flood of questions. 

“I’ll explain, but I want to know something too.”

Keith raised an eyebrow, evidently curious about what Lance to ask.

“HOW DO YOU KNOW WHERE I LIVE.”

Keith bit his lip so hard Lance was afraid he’d draw blood. He shot his gaze to the floor and let it hang there for a few beats.

“IaskedShirocauseIreallywantedtoknowanditseatingatmeandthisisentirelyridiculousand-“

He cut off his own flow of words with a sharp breath and raised his indigo eyes to stare defiantly into Lance’s. 

“I asked Shiro,” he explained curtly. 

Lance considered this for a moment and decided he’d probably have enough time to ask about this visit later. He stepped to the side of the door and offered a small smile in the direction of Keith’s questioning glance.

“Alright, I accept that you’re a crazy stalker. You’d better come inside.”

Keith looked as if he was being physically restrained when he didn’t respond, but nevertheless, he nodded a quick thank-you and stepped carefully in the door.

~~~~~

Lance sat back down on his bed while Keith perched on the edge of Lance’s desk chair. He watched as Keith’s gaze swept the room and settled on the equally messy bed opposite Lance’s.

“Hunk’s bed,” Keith stated, “but no Hunk.” 

Lance smirked. 

“He’s over studying with Pidge. Did Shiro give you a full breakdown of his schedule too when you decided to Mission Impossible your way up here?”

Lance could have sworn Keith blushed as he turned his face from view. 

“LISTEN I JUST WANT TO-“

Lance cut him off with a quick wave of his hand. 

“Hey, I’m just impressed you managed to make it up here without talking yourself out of it. Let me have a little fun before you come to your senses and sprint out that door.” 

Keith looked back to Lance and said, “I’m literally not leaving until you explain this to me. I’ve got all night.”

Eyes widening, Lance realized he was serious. 

“Fine, then. If you’re so curious,” he began, “then at least sit on the floor. I don’t like having to look up at you – its unnerving.”

Rolling his eyes and huffing quietly, Keith slid to sit cross legged on the floor. Lance nimbly leapt from his mattress to stretch his legs out opposite Keith and savor this weird… bonding atmosphere that had suddenly filled the room. Aside from Hunk and Pidge, he really hadn’t had anyone new, or even remotely interesting, throughout his college experience. He was suddenly very aware of how alone they were, and of the piles of laundry sitting out in the open. 

Oh well. 

Keith had come here out of his own curiosity, he could deal with some mess. 

Just as Lance opened his mouth to speak, his phone started ringing on his desk. He recognized the ringtone as Hunk’s and ignored Keith’s protests at being cheated at an explanation yet again as he fumbled to grab the device. 

“It’s Hunk! Just give me a second, I won’t be long.” 

He about lost his mind when Keith pouted his lip and crossed his arms like a toddler being denied ice cream. He mentally pinched himself in an attempt to regain composure and finally answered the phone. 

“Hunk? What’s up?” Some muffled words floated from the phone.

“THERE’S A WHAT??” Lance half-screamed into the receiver and tuned out Keith’s yelp of surprise.

“I REFUSE TO ACCEPT THIS. IT HASN’T RAINED IN AGES AND NOW YOU’RE TELLING ME THERE’S THE EQUIVALENT OF A TROPICAL STORM, COMPLETE WITH HAIL, DESCENDING ON CAMPUS?? DID YOU PISS OFF THOR OR SOMETHING? IT’S ONLY BEEN THUNDERING TODAY, IT HASN’T-“

He took a brief break from his rant to look out their window. Oh, yep, it looked like actual Armageddon. How did he miss this??

“Ok ok fine… it does look pretty bad. But bad enough that you can’t make it across campus until tomorrow morning??”

Hunk sounded slightly panicked as he managed to get a word in edgewise with Lance. 

“Yes!! And don’t even think about trying to leave the dorm for ANYTHING. We’re basically on lockdown and staff will go ballistic if they have to deal with weather-related lawsuits because they couldn’t keep students safe inside! You know how it is!”

At those words, Lance’s blood ran cold. He’s stuck in here… unable to leave until tomorrow… with Keith in his dorm too??”

He looked over at Keith who still sitting on the floor.

“Please tell me you live in this particular dorm and not the one across campus. Please.”

Keith frowned, “No… I actually live in an apartment about 10 minutes from the main quad, it’s a bit of a walk from here… Why?”

Lance must have done a good job at hiding his mortified facial expression as an unalarmed Keith stayed silent while Lance turned his attention back to his phone.

“Alright. No, Hunk, stop panicking, I’ll be safe and I won’t leave… and neither will Keith, apparently.”

He ended the call before he could hear Hunk’s slew of questions, comments, or concerns. 

“What. Did. You. Just. Say.”

Keith punctuated each word with a growing tone of suspicion. 

Lance wordlessly turned the TV on to the news and gestured to the weather predictions. Keith’s eyes widened in alarm. 

“WHAT?? I’m trapped here until tomorrow!!?”

Lance nodded, and Keith gaped at him in response.

“Sorry, no way. I’m headed out. We can talk about your weird song superpower another day,” Keith stood abruptly and started moving towards the door. 

Lance surprised himself with his Flash-like speed as he leapt up to stop Keith.

“Wait! Hunk said it wasn’t safe and-“ Luckily, his explanation was cut short by a clap of thunder that rattled the building, “-I wouldn’t mess around with a tropical storm, even if I did have a death wish.”

Miraculously, Keith paused and turned back to Lance.

“I… fine, but only because I don’t want to get struck by lightning before I get some answers.”

He gave Lance a pointed look. 

“I’m going to warn you now that I’ll eventually need to shower.”

Ironically, Lance was more relieved to hear those words coming from Keith than he was when Hunk had finally relinquished his belief that not showering for five days straight before exams would help him get higher scores.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

He gestured for Keith to sit down again, and Lance gave him a lopsided grin.

“Have you ever heard of synesthesia?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is an aspiring modern artist with a passion for color and a flamboyant personality he believes can win anyone over. But when he meets newcomer Keith in his workshop class, he realizes his classic charms may not be enough to win over this brooding, mysterious artist who doesn’t really seem to follow any style except for his own. Keith could be the key to unlocking Lance’s current crippling artist’s block. Is friendship (or something more) on the horizon for these two artists? Or will competition over a scholarship, secrets, and past conflicts create more barriers than they can overcome?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uploading on time!! (don't get used to it this is an ~extremely~ rare occurrence that I will hopefully attempt to keep up :')

Keith gave him a questioning look. 

“Synesthesia?”

Lance nodded. 

“It’s a little bit complicated,” he explained, trying to find the best way to put the whole concept. 

“When I was little, my mom would always have music playing. She had all kinds, even though most of it was Spanish and classic rock. I loved hearing it, and she always playing new songs; no music ever got old. Music was the first way I saw the world a little differently… a world with color in kinda weird places.”

He stopped for a moment, considering what to say next. 

“I- oh shit,” Keith started to say but cut himself off as the two boys saw lightning cracking through the sky and rain pounding furiously on the window. 

Lance smiled, he had always loved storms. Plus, Keith had just cussed and despite himself he found it really cute.

“What was that for?” Lance questioned innocently, watching Keith squirm as thunder boomed ominously in the distance. 

“I just- the storm… I was gonna ask more about the music, but the lightning scared the hell out of me.”

Lance kept the smile on his face, not in an effort to make Keith more comfortable (although he was trying ridiculously hard to do just that), but because he really couldn’t help himself. He was getting more of the Keith that hardly anyone else got to see, and it both thrilled and terrified him.

“Please save all questions and comments until the end of the presentation; the producers of McClain’s weird brain phenomenon thank you.”

To Lance’s utter delight (although he tried his best to mask it), Keith let out a snort of indignation and giggled quietly.

“Ok ok ok Lance just chill out and talk otherwise you’re never gonna get through this,” was his inner monologue’s response as he tried to form words but was failing the longer he stared at Keith. So, he focused his attention on the window and studied the rain as he continued. 

“So just to cut to the chase… when I listened to the music, I could see the colors in my head. I loved closing my eyes and sitting on the counter while she made dinner or baked or anytime music was playing; I got my own personal art show every three minutes. I thought everyone had it, and I was totally shocked when I found out that it was a unique thing.”

He stopped again to look at Keith but decided to forge ahead and second-guess himself later.

“Actually, Spanish music found a way into loads of the art I paint now, cause, you know, Cuban, cool stuff like heritage and whatnot. Modern art,” he gestured incoherently with his hands as he continued, “is my passion because it allows for soooo much creativity. Like, I want to literally throw 18 different shades of my brother’s favorite color randomly on a canvas and trace his face out of the lines on it? I can do it. I want to listen to Bailando and make a painting of a flamenco dancer based on the colors I hear? Nobody’s stopping me. So I guess synesthesia was like the best thing to happen to a guy like me cause it meshed really really well with the art I wanted to do. Just… gave me a way of looking at the world through a different lens, I guess, not to sound too theatrical.”

Lance finally stopped for a breath and got a quick look at Keith’s expression.  
Wonder.

Childlike wonder as Keith drank up Lance’s fast, hurriedly strung-together words. Lance remembered when he first teasingly mentioned that they might make a good pair and he saw Keith’s façade drop for just a moment, but that moment had been stretched into eternity while Lance had been speaking.

Lance felt a surge of warmth bloom in his chest as he realized that very few people knew enough about painting to understand what he was talking about. It took someone with an intimate understanding of the relationship an artist has with their work to make sense of Lance’s explanation, synesthetic or not. Keith got it, Lance realized, and that made him an exception in the world; not the expectation.

“I,” Lance giggled slightly at what he was about to say, “I actually didn’t like certain numbers and words when I was little cause the combination of letters or numbers made weird color combos.”

He noticed Keith’s confused look and added, “Those – letters and numbers I mean – they’re colors too. I couldn’t figure it out for a while why I didn’t like them, but when I finally got it, it made a lot more sense.”

Lance stopped, for good this time. He wanted to hear what Keith had to say.

“So…” Keith began carefully, “…this works with all music? Any music you hear?”

Lanced nodded. “Yup. Kinda fun, kinda weird.”

After a moment, Keith got a determined look on his face and snatched his phone from his back pocket.

“Ummm care to tell me what you’re furiously googling?”

Keith didn’t respond, but his fingers moved at lightning speed. Eventually, a devious grin appeared on his face and Lance saw him pump the volume up all the way, without earbuds this time. 

“Tell me what color, yeah?” Keith asked, the smile unmoving on his face. 

Lance heard laughter, like the kind coming from a kid’s show, and immediately said,

“Yellow. Like… daffodil yellow.” 

He frowned in confusion. “Hold on, this is like really cheery yellow. No way this is your music-“ he stopped, hearing narration and watching Keith’s smirk grow wider, “Keith I swear to god you better not have-“

He was cut off by an extremely loud voice coming from Keith’s phone announcing, “Over the hills and far away… Teletubbies come to play!”

Lance shrieked and lunged for the phone, barely missing Keith’s face as he grabbed for it.

“ABSOLUTELY NOT! NO WAY! I WAS TERRIFIED OF TELETUBBIES WHEN I WAS SIX AND THERE IS NOT WAY YOU’RE MAKING ME RELIVE THOSE HORRORS!”

Keith laughed loudly and dodged Lance easily as he continued to grab for the phone. 

“No way! I’ve learned your weakness now; you’re never getting over this. Christ, Lance, who the hell is scared of Teletubbies anyway? They’re like the most nonthreatening creatures on television!”

Lance jokingly crawled towards Keith on all fours and let out a low growl as he prepared to full on pounce if Keith didn’t relent. He was rewarded by a high-pitched yelp of embarrassment as a furious blush swept across Keith’s cheeks, but he still managed to keep the theme song playing despite his brief distraction of Lance being… Lance.

“They’re these weird alien creatures who dance around for no reason and pop scarily out of the ground!! What’s not to be afraid of is the real question!” Lance insisted as he finally slumped back to the floor in defeat. “God, I will do anything you want if you just turn it off!”

Keith snapped his head towards Lance at those words, and Lance got the feeling he just might have made a mistake. 

“Anything…?” Keith drawled, letting a smug look tear through any ounce of resistance Lance was about to put up.

“I-“

“Nope, sorry. You said it. Five more songs of my choice, and you’ve got to give me colors for all of them.”

Lance pursed his lips, both relieved and disappointed it wasn’t something else.

“Fine… let’s get this over with.” Lance conceded begrudgingly. 

Keith smiled smugly, knowing he had won.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is an aspiring modern artist with a passion for color and a flamboyant personality he believes can win anyone over. But when he meets newcomer Keith in his workshop class, he realizes his classic charms may not be enough to win over this brooding, mysterious artist who doesn’t really seem to follow any style except for his own. Keith could be the key to unlocking Lance’s current crippling artist’s block. Is friendship (or something more) on the horizon for these two artists? Or will competition over a scholarship, secrets, and past conflicts create more barriers than they can overcome?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so guys my family and I have been traveling a looooot recently and it's been a whole week since I've been able to crack the lid of my laptop! unfortunately as I'm going to be leaving for another week, here's a whole mess up uploads. happy reading :)

Four aggressively cheerful children’s songs later, Lance had identified baby blue with dashes of green (Barney clean-up song), a frankly obnoxious burnt orange (badly remixed version of the Little Einstein’s), firetruck red (Elmo’s Song), and finally, a lime green complete with dashes of neon blue (Caillou’s theme song) that had Lance close to tearing up as he begged Keith to make his ‘torture’ end. 

Keith collapsed in a fit of laughter as soon as the song ended and couldn’t contain himself when he caught a glimpse of Lance’s puppy dog eyes. 

“Make it stoooOOPPPPP KEITH!! I DEMAND A SONG WITH SUBSTANCE!” Lance ordered, poking Keith in the side in an attempt to stop his adorable, um, obnoxious giggling. 

Keith finally heaved a heavy sigh, his breath apparently catching in his throat when he realized that for one, Lance had just jabbed his side somewhat forcefully, and that also, Lance had made his way very… very close next to Keith. 

Lance watched Keith’s face change as he slowly seemed to come back down to earth. He settled a few inches next to Keith’s side and watched him frown down at his phone. 

“Fine… let me check,” Keith conceded, swiping through his library.  
Suddenly, his features softened dramatically, and the scrolling stopped as he landed on a song. 

Lance pressed himself against Keith’s side to get a look at the screen. Immediately, he felt Keith stiffened and quickly shove Lance away. It wasn’t mean, it was… instinct. A very physical example of Keith’s kneejerk reaction to keep people at arm’s length; literally and figuratively. 

Keith’s eyes were full of fear and misgivings as he realized what he had done and whipped to his side to face Lance. 

“Agh! Sorry I, I- I didn’t mean to-“

Lance lightly placed his hand on Keith’s shoulder and felt Keith’s quiet, breathy gasp as his sentence fizzled out.

“It’s ok, Keith. It’s… it’s ok.”

Keith nervously snagged his lower lip in his teeth and met Lance’s steady gaze. 

God, that was downright intoxicating. 

Keith’s walls had gone down and come up in record time, and he was clearly reeling from his closeness to the uncharacteristically quiet Cuban boy beside him. Lance knew the feeling. 

He offered Keith a shy smile, hand still on his shoulder, and he felt Keith relax beneath him. Thunder rolled in the background and rain continued to pour from the heavens, even as Lance let his hand slide from Keith’s shoulder down to settle between them.

“I’ve just…” Keith exhaled and looked down, studying his boots before shifting his gaze upwards again.

“I’ve never had a friend, or, anyone… anything, like you.”

He blushed and looked away again.

“So, um, thanks… I guess.”

Lance stopped.

He just… stopped.

Lance had been lonely for a long time. Although he didn’t really let on to it, he learned to smother any expression of loneliness in confidence and bravado. Lance would be damned if anyone knew just how dark his room got at night, Hunk snoring or not.   
He had never met anyone as standoffish, hard to read, and complicated as Keith. 

But… he had never met anyone as surprisingly deep, funny, and honest as Keith. And hell, he had never had anyone outside of family that he ached to protect like Keith. Lance turned and was hopelessly drawn into swirling indigo eyes gleaming in the low light that tripped him up at every turn. Indigo eyes that were boring into him, sweeping through his soul, and melting him from the inside out.

Was Keith even trying? Did he even know how wrecked Lance was on a crush? Would he care if he knew?

Keith somehow seemed to understand that Lance wasn’t ignoring him, just lost in thought, and flicked his gaze to his phone. He pressed play just as Lance breathed, “You’re… welcome.”

Miraculously, Keith heard him, and nodded softly in reply. 

The music swelled and filled the room; Lance caught off guard by the sultry sounds and the surprisingly appropriate backdrop of the thunderstorm raging on. 

It sounded soft and urban, like a stereo underwater. Electronic notes cut through the fog and the words flowed to the surface, very different from the songs Lance was used to hearing from Keith.

 

I want to sleep next to you  
But that’s all I want to do right now  
And I wanna come home to you  
But home is just a room full of my safest sounds

Cause you know that I can’t trust myself   
With my three-a.m. shadow   
I’d rather fuel a fantasy  
Than deal with this alone

I want to sleep next to you  
But that’s all I want to do right now  
So come over now  
And talk me down. 

 

The lyrics faded temporarily and were swept up in the music.

“What color, Lance…” Keith asked quietly. 

“It’s… it’s different than the others, I mean, clearly. It’s hazy and smoky gray, with-“ he cut himself off with a homesick smile, “turquoise. Smoky turquoise. Like the beaches back home at sunset when there’s a storm coming in from off the coast.”

His smile faded.

“I miss it. But that’s exactly what color it is.”

As he finished speaking, the music began again, and he snuck a glance at Keith in the dark. His eyes were closed, and his face looked peaceful as he seemed to drink in the lyrics. Lance noticed a flicker of movement as Keith’s lips parted to for a verse.

And I know I like to draw the line  
When it starts to get too real  
But the less time that I spend with you  
The less you need to heal.

As Lance watched him, an idea began to form in his mind. Was that why Keith tried so hard to keep him at a distance? Because maybe… he was falling too?

It was too much to imagine. Too much to hope for, and Lance pushed the thought from his mind. He’d never met someone who didn’t blush at his advances, Keith was no different. It was much too dangerous to fantasize about a relationship with a boy who clearly had no interest in Lance, other than as a friend. But… what Keith had said after friend, when he said, ‘anyone like you’, was that his way of telling Lance that he was special? At least in some way?

Lance tried to push his cobwebbed thoughts from the forefront of his brain and instead cleared his mind to look at Keith again. That was becoming one of his more frequent habits. 

 

So come over now   
And talk me down…


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is an aspiring modern artist with a passion for color and a flamboyant personality he believes can win anyone over. But when he meets newcomer Keith in his workshop class, he realizes his classic charms may not be enough to win over this brooding, mysterious artist who doesn’t really seem to follow any style except for his own. Keith could be the key to unlocking Lance’s current crippling artist’s block. Is friendship (or something more) on the horizon for these two artists? Or will competition over a scholarship, secrets, and past conflicts create more barriers than they can overcome?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2k mark officially broken! this was by far one of my favorite chapters to write as we finally get to see a little more of 'Lance and Keith' instead of what they think they should be. bonding time is something I think both of our paladudes have been lacking so if they can't have it in the show (at least not yet....... please lord let season 7 give us some Klance relief we all desperately need), we can at least have some here!

The song finally faded and Keith stopped the music before it had a chance to change.  
“I liked it,” Lance said, still looking at Keith, “I liked it a lot.”

Keith bashfully bowed his head.

“So do I.” he grinned at his own joke and whoops there went Lance’s heart oh lord in heaven…

Lance didn’t bother asking Keith why he chose this song, he didn’t want to ruin the moment. They sat there, next to each other, in comfortable silence and listened to the thunderstorm blow on.

Keith furrowed his eyebrows and glanced at the time on his phone.

“Um, Lance?”

Lance’s head whirled for a moment as he still couldn’t get used to hearing his name from Keith’s lips. He made it sound a lot more interesting than Lance believed it to be.

“Yeah?”

“I, uh, wasn’t actually kidding about the shower and… obviously I don’t have any of my stuff… can- do you mind- is it ok-“ Keith trailed off and looked at Lance with pleading eyes.

“Oh! Yeah sure I can, um, I can totally- I have shampoo and stuff. Yeah just uh, just give me a second,” Lance stuttered as he realized that this was Keith’s best way of asking for help, and Lance wasn’t exactly doing the greatest job of making it less awkward for him.

In spite of himself, Lance threw a cheeky grin towards Keith as he stood up to grab his shower stuff, “I could always just not give you a towel and make you suffer.”   
He thoroughly enjoyed Keith’s immediate reddening and loss of words.

“Shut up… as if this isn’t torture already,” Keith mumbled and gently shoulder-checked Lance as he shuffled past him.

Lance smiled and chuckled when, despite the awkward moment, the easy and comfortable atmosphere had stuck around. 

“Yeah yeah, you love it. I’ll even let you borrow some PJ’s as God knows the last time you did laundry.”

Keith’s eyebrows shot halfway up his forehead as he retorted, “Excuse me! It’s not like you don’t wear that same jacket every day. I wouldn’t criticize if I were you, McClain.”

God that was hot when Keith called him by his last name.  
Lance stop.  
Stop stop stOP.

“Don’t worry about pajamas, it’s-“

“Sorry, you don’t get a choice in this,” Lance cut him off as he stood with his hands defiantly planted on his hips, “I texted Hunk a second ago and he’s cool with you crashing in his bed as long as you’re clean while doing so. I will not lose the trust – and baking benefits – of my best friend just because of you and your PJ pride.”

Keith frowned at him, looking frustrated.

“But-“

“NOPE. No ‘buts’. I’ll make sure you get a cozy t-shirt so stop complaining. We’ll have a proper slumber party, I’ll even let you paint my nails.”

At this, Keith cracked and let an amused smile dance across his lips; indigo eyes lighting up with contained laughter.  
“Ok… fine. But if you don’t let me shower soon, I’ll stretch out across Hunk’s bed like a cat and you’re not stopping me.”

Fighting back laughter at Lance’s mental picture of Keith as a defiant (let’s be real – asshole) kitten, Lance packed up his spare shower supplies and thrust them into Keith’s hand along with a towel, brush, and a hurriedly packed change of clothes. 

“Get lost, will ya? I’m showering in the room, but you can use the dorm showers. They’re clean, don’t give me that face. Down the hall to your left, you’ll see them.”

Keith gave him a quick nod and a tentative smile as he closed the door behind him.

Lance took Keith’s absence as a good time to shower off the grime of the day himself and hopped in the shower, finishing a little faster than normal cause he didn’t want Keith to surprise him in a towel. Once he was finished, complete with dripping hair and some ~manly~ scented lotion, he lept on his bed and scrolled through his own music library.

Should he put some music on? Was that weird? Oh well, it’s happening.

Lance glanced, well, squinted (he had taken his contacts out, but a little blurry vision was a small price to pay and he definitely could be bothered to find his glasses), at the clock and groaned. It was late, but it’s not like he had classes tomorrow. No reason to be worried.

He settled on a chill playlist and immediately started humming along to Fine By Me as the familiar melody flowed through his speaker.

Lance swept around the dorm room, moving a couple t-shirts thrown across the floor and just generally attempting to make the space the tiniest bit neater before Keith came back.   
“I’m just saying its fine by me, if you never leave,” He sang, swaying his hips to the song and enjoying the never-ending glory of finally swapping jeans for pajama pants in the evening. 

“And we can live lie this forever, it’s fine by me,” Lance continued, getting his hips to move properly to one of his favorite songs.

“Um, Lance?”

Lance yelped in embarrassment and whipped around to face- oh God.

Absolutely not.

Keith grinned shyly in the doorframe.

Of course Lance had forgotten to give him a stupid shirt, and of course the sight of Keith in Lance’s sweats and in Lance’s room and looking at Lance with those stupid stupid eyes would send Lance’s pulse clear into the stratosphere. 

Because staying cool around attractive guys?

Easy. Literally could do it in his sleep.

All of that cool went straight out the freaking window with Keith, and it was stupid, it was unnecessary, and it was 100% happening as Lance felt his face flush over seeing Keith shirtless.

Keith. Shirtless. 

This small and irrelevant detail was seriously what was giving Lance an actual heart attack and forcing out a strangled, “Yeah?” from Lance’s throat as he stood there unable to form coherent thought.

Oh lord is that a tattoo??

“I know you were joking about the no towel thing, but I could do with a shirt if you can part with one…” Keith trailed off, eyebrows furrowing as he took in Lance’s frozen reaction.

“Yes! Yeah let me grab you one,” Lance said – way too loudly – as he grabbed literally the first t-shirt he could and absolutely chucked it across the room to Keith who caught it with surprising ease despite his hands being full.

“Um, what’s your tattoo?”

Oh God yes let’s make this situation even more awkward for Lance McClain. 

Lance had to consciously focus on keeping his own hand from slapping over his mouth as soon as the words were out.

Keith gingerly placed the towel and spare toiletries down on a clear spot on Lance’s desk and glanced up at him.

“Which one?”

Lance gulped, “You have… more than one?”

Keith grinned. “Yeah, a couple actually.”

Why was this hot. This shouldn’t be hot.

Keith shifted his damp (was it always this long when it was wet??) hair from his left shoulder and studied the ink. He took a couple steps to cross the divide between him and Lance and tilted his shoulder to give Lance a better look. 

“This one is my favorite. It’s a lion, for my dad. He loved lions, with like a passion, cause they symbolize strength and courage. I got the color from a story he would always read to me when I was a kid, about a red lion that would watch over and protect anyone that was lonely or afraid.”

Lance studied the tattoo and he had to admit, the art was beautiful. Fiery red wove into the lion’s mane and highlighted the iris of the inky black eye.

“The art is really intricate, who drew it?”

Keith blushed and looked away from his arm.

“I did. I drew a really early version when… when my dad died, and I decided to redraw it and get a tattoo when I turned 18. It was my way of letting go.”

Lance looked up at Keith, startled, “Oh my god I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

Keith silenced him with a look.

“Lance, it’s ok. If I hadn’t wanted to talk about it, I wouldn’t have. I wanted to tell you, you didn’t force me. Don’t worry.”

Lance bit his lip, still unconvinced. 

“Ok… thanks.”

Keith pulled his shoulder back and then swept his black hair up from the nape of his neck to reveal another tattoo normally hidden by his mullet. An Asian symbol of some kind, in simple black ink and delicately drawn.

“This one’s for my mom. She was from a special ops force in South Korea when she met my dad on a mission to the US. It was supposed to be a fast trip, she was working security with a politician who was trying to gain support in America for increased security on North Korea with the nuclear missiles and everything, but there was an assassination attempt.”

Lance stared, slack-jawed, as Keith continued.

“Apparently, a lot of people didn’t want that politician to start lobbying for American interference. Anyway, she took a bullet for the mission and had to stay behind at a US hospital to get treatment and couldn’t make it back to South Korea. She met my dad in a hospital near the Pentagon. He lived out in the middle of the nowhere in Texas, and the only reason he was there was because he was bringing in equipment to show to some government people and get funding for new astronomy projects. He was, you know, an astronomer. Got a couple books published. Evidently, he was trying to fix one of his displays and accidentally broke his finger getting a telescope rigged up.”

Keith smiled and shook his head.

“My dad was as capable as they come, except when he got excited about something. Then it was all out the window until he got the itch scratched and could finish that project.”

Keith cast a thoughtful gaze Lance’s way, stating, “You kind of remind me of him.”

Lance momentarily forgot what breathing was.

“Anyway, Keith continued, “she never did make it back on time. She and my dad had me, but then she got word somehow that her team needed her again. She tried to fight it, but she knew she had to leave. She left my dad and I with the promise she’d try to come back, but she never made it. My dad tried so hard to come with her, but she wouldn’t let him. Said she needed to deal with her past life and then she could come back to him and her son.” 

Keith glanced back up at Lance. 

“Oh, I- I’m sorry I didn’t mean to talk for so long.”

Lance shook himself out of his haze for a moment and smiled as best he could up at Keith.

“Are you kidding? That was the most I’ve ever heard you talk at one time. You should do more of that, Kitty.”

Keith stiffened and Lance noted the blush creeping up his neck although Keith’s face remained away from him.

“It’s the Korean symbol for peace. My dad would always tell me that my mom could find peace in any situation, didn’t matter how stressful it was. She was a good soldier, and she knew how to stay calm in the middle of chaos.”

Lance caught a glimpse of a sad smile spreading across Keith’s face.

“Kinda wish she had taught me a little bit about that…”

He turned back to face Lance, who was still slightly shocked at the sudden outpour of Keith’s family history. 

“Oh, yeah, there’s also this one.”

Keith pointed to a small line of script stretching across the right side of his ribcage.

“Patience yields focus,” Lance read aloud, looking at Keith questioningly. 

Keith shrugged.

“It’s something Shiro always loved to say to me. Even when he was off at college and I was still in high school, he would always remind me. Decided to keep a little bit of his brotherly wisdom with me in case I ever forgot.”

Keith abruptly grabbed the t-shirt Lance had tossed him and tugged it on over his bare chest.

“And that concludes our tattoo tour. Fun stuff,” Keith said as he picked up his towel to hand to Lance.

‘Fun stuff’ didn’t begin to accurately describe the amount of information Lance had learned in an alarmingly short time.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is an aspiring modern artist with a passion for color and a flamboyant personality he believes can win anyone over. But when he meets newcomer Keith in his workshop class, he realizes his classic charms may not be enough to win over this brooding, mysterious artist who doesn’t really seem to follow any style except for his own. Keith could be the key to unlocking Lance’s current crippling artist’s block. Is friendship (or something more) on the horizon for these two artists? Or will competition over a scholarship, secrets, and past conflicts create more barriers than they can overcome?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so unfortunately, no interwebs for a week now. retreat time! however, once I get back my schedule is back up and running hopefully with no glitches or hitches. summer's calmed down a little bit and we're not so hectic anymore.... three cheers for consistent uploading!!

After finishing up putting away Keith’s used toiletries, Lance let out a loud yawn, earning a chuckle from Keith.

“Do you always yawn that lou-“, he cut himself off with a yawn of his own.

“Hah! Instant karma strikes again,” Lance declared with a smile. 

Keith’s eyelashes lazily fluttered as he let out a little sigh. 

“Um, do you… I’m kinda exhausted, do you mind if I hijack Hunk’s bed now?”

Lance blinked, and then quickly answered, “Oh, um yeah of course. Help yourself, I’ll turn off the light.”

Welp, there went their bonding evening. Oh well, we can’t always have our happy endings.

Making his way to the bed opposite Lance’s, Keith climbed slowly in and eased the covers up to his chin. As Lance clicked the light off, he heard Keith shuffle the blankets around, presumably trying to get comfortable.

“Gnight, Lance,” was Keith’s slightly muffled bid farewell as he sighed into the pillow.

“Night, Keith. No nightmares please; I dislike being awoken in the middle of the night for any purpose other than a fire or free food.”

“Whatever. I’ll scream in my sleep just to piss you off.”

“Good luck with that, Kitty.”

“I thought we discussed name calling.”

“We did. We decided on Kitty.”

“Goodnight Lance.”

“Goodnight Keith.”

It might have been five minutes or an hour, but Lance definitely couldn’t sleep. Judging by the tossing and turning coming from Hunk’s bed, Keith was apparently having a similar issue.

Nice to know he wasn’t the only insomniac on campus.

“…Lance.”

“Bestest buddy Keith.”

A muffled hmphh came from the other side of the room and Lance smiled in the darkness.

“Remember how I said I was exhausted?”

“In fact I do.”

“I apparently am exhausted until my head hits the pillow.”

“I know the feeling.”

Silence.

“Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t happen to watch anime, do you?”

“Yes…?”

“I have CrunchyRoll on my laptop.”

“Well that’s nifty.”

“Have you seen Yuuri On Ice recently?”

“Um… maybe six months ago…?”

“I have a wild notion that seeing as we’re both definitely awake, we should both definitely watch arguably one of the best figure-skating anime’s to be released in our lifetime.”

“Hm…”

“Just get over here.”

“HMMM…”

“Keith.”

“Yes?”

“You can bring a pillow and if anime puts you to sleep I’ll be sure to roll you as gently onto the floor as possible.”

“You have a way with words, Lance.”

“I know. Come on.”

Shuffling, followed by softly padded footsteps. Lance reached for his laptop and opened it up, wincing at the sudden light but going wide-eyed when he saw Keith with a blanket thrown over his messy hair and a pillow clutched to his chest.

“Move, I was promised pork cutlet bowls.”

Lance obliged and scooted to the side. He had manufactured a wall of pillows for when he was browsing Tumblr and watching movies on his laptop, so he pressed his back up against his makeshift headboard and left some room for Keith next to him.

Keith slid tentatively next to him and hesitated briefly before pushing his shoulder next to Lance’s and settling in.

Lance imagined hand-plucking the wings off every butterfly plaguing his stomach at the brush of soft fabric next to his arm and Keith’s sudden closeness.

He rested the laptop on his lap (duh) and slowly shifted it so that it was evenly spaced between them. Lance cued up the first episode and let himself get lost in the story of the anime that gave him an overall obsession with the genre. Except, he wasn’t paying as close attention as usual.

Lance was much more invested in the way Keith slowly – almost imperceptibly – pressed his leg up against Lance’s as the laptop started to slip one too many times. He noticed Keith’s breathing get slower and more even as the episode stretched on, and noted the telltale flutter of Keith’s eyelashes which now translated as ‘I’m tired’ to Lance. 

He bit back a giggle as Keith’s yawns started to get longer and longer, and eventually, Lance started to notice Keith’s head gently nod up and down as he fought off sleep.

Eventually, Keith’s exhaustion seemed to overwhelm him and his head slumped down one final time; forehead coming to rest on Lance’s shoulder as a soft sigh escaped his lips. Lance paused, and listened to Keith’s heavy, even breathing.

Yep, he was definitely asleep.

On Lance’s shoulder.

That was ok. 

That was perfectly fine. 

Lance shifted his shoulder a millimeter and tugged the blankets to cover the pair of them. He reached out to turn the lights and felt Keith stir beside him.

No no no noooo don’t wake up please don’t wake up.

Lance hurriedly flicked the light off, snapped his laptop shut, and laid back next to Keith, trying to get everything sorted in case Keith woke up for real this time.

Blissfully, Keith seemed to be only half awake as he sleepily grasped for a pillow. Having secured one, he stuffed it under his head and snuggled next to Lance in a surprisingly comfortable manner. A sleepy breath from Keith ignited the air shared between them, and Lance caught his own flow of oxygen in his throat.

This shouldn’t be comfortable. This shouldn’t feel like it did.

Lance had somehow found his way onto his normal sleeping position, back on the mattress, eyes to the unseen stars above, and Keith had filled the empty niche next to him with his head on Lance’s shoulder and soft hair brushing his neck. 

This was…

This was.

That’s all.

Lance’s eyes closed, and blissfully, stayed closed.

The thunderstorm continued to pound against the window, the smell of incense lingered in the air, and indigo shone on the inside of Lance’s eyelids as he finally drifted off to sleep. 

~~~~~

Click

Click

Click

Lance rolled over and squinted against the rare speckles of sunlight filtering through the lingering storm clouds. The sky still seemed to be angry still, and only let a little bit of light through at a time before swallowing it up again.

What in God’s name was that noise? Ugh, and what time was it? Probably barely past 6:00 in the morning. Not the best time to be awakened by a mysterious noise in the still mostly dark dorm room. 

Click

Click

He rolled over slightly, not enough to disturb Keith, but far enough that he could squint over to identify the noise.

A blurry shape shifted into focus as Lance tilted his head.

Wait. He knew that bandana. That bandana had better exit the room now if he knew what was good for him. 

“HUNK.” Lance whisper-yelled as he realized that his best friend was holding his phone and snapping pictures oh lord. 

“Hunk Garett if you value your life and your loved ones you will step away and not return until after I have sorted-“ Lance hissed as he inclined his head softly towards Keith’s sleeping figure, “-this out. Are we clear? STOP GIGGLING AND DELETE THOSE PICTURES.”

Hunk was wearing an infuriatingly cheeky smile on his face as he bobbed his head towards Lance and slowly backed out of the room.

“Get ooOUUTTT.”

Lance was never going to live this down. 

Sighing quietly as he tried for the umpteenth time not to rouse the sleeping Keith next to him, Lance let his head fall back to the pillow and closed his eyes against the sunlight steadily fading behind the clouds and listened to the rain pick up pace once more. 

“Me duele la cabeza por ti, Hunk…”* Lance mumbled to himself as his eyes closed, hopefully permanently, this time.

 

*translation: “My head hurts because of / for you, Hunk”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is an aspiring modern artist with a passion for color and a flamboyant personality he believes can win anyone over. But when he meets newcomer Keith in his workshop class, he realizes his classic charms may not be enough to win over this brooding, mysterious artist who doesn’t really seem to follow any style except for his own. Keith could be the key to unlocking Lance’s current crippling artist’s block. Is friendship (or something more) on the horizon for these two artists? Or will competition over a scholarship, secrets, and past conflicts create more barriers than they can overcome?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alrighty lads she's back! updating's going back to normal, thank you all for your patience and kind comments. until the next ~on time~ (hopefully) upload

Lance awoke again, thankfully, not to the sound of his privacy being invaded, but instead to the soft tickle of hair nudging at the side of his neck.

The beast had awoken.

Lance mentally braced himself.

Keith stirred beside him, and Lance savored the brief haze of calm and sleep that had glossed over those indigo eyes as they fluttered open between long, inky eyelashes. 

Keith apparently wasn’t entirely aware of his surroundings as he pulled the sheets back up to his chin, but Lance saw the lightbulb flash on as Keith realized that those sheets weren’t his. 

His eyes snapped up to meet Lance’s, realization dawning on him more and more rapidly.

“Morning, sleeping beauty. “Yuuri on Ice” is apparently better than any sleeping pill on the market, huh?”

Keith looked vaguely horrified as he struggled for words, but apparently decided actions would speak louder as he abruptly sat up, wincing at the morning stiffness Lance was experiencing as well.

He rubbed his head and finally spoke, saying, “I thought we agreed I’d be spending the night on the floor.”

Lance laughed, actually laughed, at the fact that this was apparently Keith’s best way of dealing with the situation.

“I’m a gentleman, what can I say. Besides, you fell asleep before the first episode was even over and I was far too tired to do any sort of physical activity.”

Keith huffed, evidently unconvinced, in reply as he shifted off the bed and sat down on Hunk’s. 

“Is it still storming?” he asked, peering out the window above Lance’s bed. 

“I don’t hear any intense thunder, but I’ll check,” Lance replied, moving over to his desk to locate his glasses now that he’d legitimately need them. He frowned at the dust and fingerprints decorating the lenses and gave a quick swipe of his t-shirt across the surface. 

Sweeping the curtains to the side, Lance looked up towards the sky and was greeted with an ominously overcast sky and a steady sheet of rain, but that was nothing compared to the literal hell-storm happening last night.

“Nope,” Lance said, turning back to face Keith, “I think you’re good to go.”

His phone dinged and he grabbed it from where it lay charging on his desk.

“Hablo del diablo! Hunk just forwarded the email from our hyper-conscious campus that is officially setting us free from our dorms. It appears you’re good to go.”

Keith hadn’t really said much, and his confusion was written all over his face when Lance looked up from his phone.

“You wear glasses?”

“What?”

“Glasses. You wear glasses.”

“No Keith these are my superpower goggles and that’s the actual secret to synesthesia.”

“Hilarious. But seriously, glasses?”

“Not all of us are blessed with owl-grade vision”

“Suck to be you I guess.”

“How kind. Why the surprise about the glasses anyway?”

Ok, if Keith hadn’t been blushing before, he was definitely blushing now. 

“Cause, I don’t know, you just don’t seem like a glasses guy? And, y’know, I’ve never seen you with them? I- you get it!!”

“Get what?”

“Oh my god Lance.”

“Yeah, yeah fine. But yes. My vision isn’t horrible, but it could use a little help. I wear contacts most of the time anyways.”

“Oh. Um, y-you should wear them more. The glasses I mean.” 

“Oh?”

“Yeah, they distract from the rest of your face.”

“I resent that!”

“I bet you do.”

“Personally I think I look dashing either way.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Keith paused, a smirk settling onto his mouth, “four-eyes.”

Lance stared at him.

“You are so immature.”

“This coming from the guy who talks to himself during class, makes eyes at girls over his canvas, and steals phones when the owner isn’t looking?”

Oh great. Lance could feel his face heating up as a swell of embarrassment rose in his chest.

“Hey! One, I don’t mean to, two, they make eyes at me, and three, I couldn’t help it! Besides, you encouraged me.”

Keith bowed his head in a form of concession. 

“I was curious, don’t judge. I didn’t even think you’d like my music…” he trailed off, glancing back hesitantly at Lance.

“It fits your style. Very emo and angsty, but also deep. I like it.”

Keith spluttered but couldn’t keep a small grin from his face.

“Hey, at least it has substance.”

“Then how do you explain the K-Pop?”

“K-pop has substance!!”

“Yes well Jungkook has an entirey different type of substance but that doesn’t have anything to do with it I’m sure. Don’t be embarrassed, Korea certainly knows how to make ‘em.”

Keith’s blush rose from a grade two to a solid grade six at Lance’s words and pulled a pillow up to his face to muffle his groan.

“Universe, space itself, give me patience please.”

“If you’re calling on higher powers to deal with me I dare say we’ve reached the friendship stage.”

At this, Keith glanced up nervously towards Lance.

“So… all I need to do is be is like, 120% done with you at all times and then we’re friends?”

“Absolutely.”

“Oh god Lance, I’ve been friends with you since the day we met.”

Butterflies exploded in Lance’s stomach as the two of them burst into laughter and Keith’s eyes practically shone. 

It was confirmed: Lance was in far too deep with this kid for his own good.

~~~~~

After 20 minutes of changing into proper clothes (Lance favoring a blue turtleneck over his usual t-shirt and found a knitted beanie to combat the crisp chill of the air), brushing teeth, and Keith bickering with Lance about borrowing his hairbrush despite Lance’s insistence that Keith’s mullet was ‘contagious’, they were both somewhat woken up and ready to go.

Lance had left his glasses on.

No, it wasn’t because of Keith.

Not… entirely… because of Keith.

His eyes needed a break from contacts 24/7 ok?

It had nothing to do with Keith.

Nothing.

“Ok. I’m gonna offer this once, so listen up,” Keith said, after folding Lance’s clothes and tossing them on his bed. 

Lance’s eyes widened slightly; intrigued. 

“Don’t leave me in suspense, Kitty.”

Keith heaved a heavy sigh but had apparently come to grips with the fact that any protests were falling on deaf ears. 

“I really need to get fresh clothes from my apartment. Like, really, really need to. There’s a coffee shop across the street, and they have the best bagels I’ve ever tasted and pretty good coffee too. So… as payment for letting me crash here,” Keith stopped and took a breath, apparently steeling himself for what he was about to say, “come with me… and you can tell me what you think.”

Lanced blinked. This sounded suspiciously like a date. Except, not? A ‘thank-you’ date? Was that a thing?

Realizing he had been silent for a few seconds longer than allowed and that Keith was doing that anxious lip-biting thing again, Lance replied, “Yeah, sure. You definitely owe me.”

Keith rolled his eyes, obviously relieved but unwilling to admit it.

“Whatever. Come on, I need to change and get out of this stuffy dorm room.”

“Umm excuse you my home is not stuffy, thank you. For your information I prefer open windows but we had hurricane Katrina interfere with my window-rotation routine.”

Keith grinned.

“Hurricane Katrina…?”

“Keith I swear to all that is holy if you’re about to make a vine reference…” 

Keith’s grin persisted despite Lance’s deadpan tone.

“…you really should finish it out. Besides, if you’re buying me coffee and breakfast then we probably need to go before you change your mind.”

At Lance’s insistence, Keith made it out the door but managed to call back in, “mOrE LikE hUrRiCaNe ToRtIlLa,”, which was met with a dramatic sigh from Lance and a cackle of laughter from Keith. 

“YOU KNOW I’M CUBAN RIGHT?? I TAKE THESE KINDS OF MISPRONUNCIATIONS PERSONALLY. YOU’RE A DISGRACE TO MY MOTHER TONGUE. I HOPE YOU NEVER TRAVEL TO SOUTH AMERICA.”

Lance could still here laughter trailing down the hall as he heaved yet another sigh and locked the door. This was shaping up to be a somewhat eventful morning.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is an aspiring modern artist with a passion for color and a flamboyant personality he believes can win anyone over. But when he meets newcomer Keith in his workshop class, he realizes his classic charms may not be enough to win over this brooding, mysterious artist who doesn’t really seem to follow any style except for his own. Keith could be the key to unlocking Lance’s current crippling artist’s block. Is friendship (or something more) on the horizon for these two artists? Or will competition over a scholarship, secrets, and past conflicts create more barriers than they can overcome?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as it's summer, I naturally lost track of what day it was and was so excited to be uploading on time before looking at my calendar and realizing it was SATURDAY. this is why I can't be trusted... so, as an apology, here's an extra-long (almost 2k XD) chapter for you lovelies. see you in a couple days!

Lance stood behind Keith and watched him unlock the squeaky door to his apartment. After a few jostles of the doorknob and a lot of frustrated grunting from Keith, the door swung open to reveal what could only be described as ‘artist’s chaos’. 

A small, albeit cozy, couch sat overstuffed with pillows and throw blankets in front of a scratched coffee table littered with books. Off to the side, a nook of a kitchen stood with its sink filled with unwashed mugs decorated with rings of coffee. Two doors, one presumably leading to the bathroom and the other to Keith’s bedroom, were the only other thing Lance could catch a glimpse of as he peered inside the dark space. 

He spotted some gaming set next to the TV and vaguely wondered if Mario Kart would be in the foreseeable future of his and Keith’s friendship. Lance noticed framed photos decorating the wall, but he couldn’t make them out.

“Hey, um, I’ll just be a second. Just, make yourself comfortable… if you’d like?” Keith questioned uncertainly. 

Lance smiled gently as Keith shifted from foot to foot.

“Don’t worry so much Kogane. Go change, wash off last night’s mistakes. I’ll sleuth quietly while you’re away.”

He earned an exasperated, but good natured, eye roll from Keith as he walked into the bedroom and closed the door behind him. As the door shut, Lance turned on his heel and sat down gingery on the cough. Aside from a few rusty squeaks, nothing seemed to be out of working order.

Lance examined the books, along with previously unseen pads of drawing paper and an alarming assortment of paintbrushes, scattering the coffee table. He picked one cover up out of interest and smiled when he saw the cover. “Simon vs. the Homosapien Agenda”

An excellent choice. Not exactly the kind of literature that he would have pegged Keith for, but admittedly one of Lance’s favorites. Although he didn’t like to admit it, reading was one of Lance’s most loved hobbies. Not that he had much time anymore to indulge in the odd book, but on rare occasion, it was a nice escape. 

He picked up another. “Clockwork Angel”. Ah, that seemed appropriately edgy and dystopian. Lance made a mental note to google the book later as the cover art was enticing. He leaned back into the sofa.

So, Keith’s bachelor pad. Surprisingly nest-ish, in a minimalistic sort of way. Precious few sentimental knick-knacks were lying around, but what was here seemed well used and loved. Lance even managed to spot some water rings dotting the coffee table undoubtedly left there by the very same mugs occupying the sink. 

Minimal sleuthing indeed.

Looking around, Lance spied a large corkboard with dozens of tacks and photographs pinned down to it. How had he missed this? Reluctantly removing himself from the deceptively comfortable couch, Lance walked over to the conspiracy-looking board. 

Oh. Well this was new.

Photos of a woman who looked suspiciously like a lady Keith were everywhere, and thin red yarn connected pictures of her with maps, other photographs, documents, what looked to be printed out badges, receipts, and dozens of other materials. What was this?

Lance adjusted his glasses between his fingers as the low light illuminated specks of dust attached to some photos, while others were nearly spotless. Usually the one’s of what looked to be… Keith’s mom.

“Ok, thanks for waiting.”

Lance nearly jumped out of his skin as he dashed away from the mysterious cork board to see where Keith had materialized from.

“Jeez you scared me!! I need to put a bell on you or something.”

Keith laughed, and that was when Lance could get a proper look at what Keith had changed into. He had actually relinquished his red cropped jacket in favor of a snug black Henley, battered black leather jacket, red scarf, ripped black jeans, and his black combat boots. Oh, and he had tied his hair up. That wasn’t making Lance’s heart go a million miles a minute at all. 

Keith brushed some loose strands away from his eyes and turned to close the door. How in God’s name was a ponytail allowed to look that good on anyone.

“Oh my God, everyone, Keith has a neck!” Lance teased, seeing (without mullet interference now) a blush crawl up Keith’s neck. 

“Shut up,” Keith mumbled in response, grinning, “It’s cold and windy outside. S’all the stupid hair that gets in my eyes.”

Suddenly Lance was very excited for a windy autumn this year. 

~~~~~

They traipsed out the door, Lance still reeling from Keith’s costume change. The coffee shop proved to be a short walk, picturesque walk through a nearby park just as Keith had promised. Lance breathed in the sharp, clean scent of autumn as he strolled down the sidewalk beside Keith, both boys’ hands deep in their pockets. 

Blissfully, the silence shared between them wasn’t as awkward as Lance had worried. Ghosts of smiles slipped across Keith’s features when Lance caught him glance at rustling piles of leaves dotting the park. It was a gorgeous day, and the lingering storm clouds lent a mysterious atmosphere to the breathy chill of autumn. 

After a few more minutes, Keith turned and led the way to a hole-in-the-wall looking coffee shop complete with a sign reading, “Leona Café”.

Lance frowned. “Lioness Café?”

Keith grinned. “Come on, you’re a closeted hipster. You’ll love it.”

Despite himself, Lance shrugged in submission and followed him through the door. He was met with a pulse of indie music and the earthy smell of coffee grounds that admittedly, perked him up considerably. Somehow seeing Lance’s change of heart, Keith inclined his head towards the counter. 

“Check out the menu, it’s kind of long. I’ve got to run to the bathroom, try not to do anything that’ll embarrass me. I’m kind of a staple around here.”

Lance snorted contemptuously, “Excuse me! I happen to be as non-embarrassing as they co-“, in his attempt to gesture with this right arm, Lance clipped a mug and caught it in the nick of time before it went sailing to the ground.

Keith raised an eyebrow. “Should I say it again or has my point proven itself..?”

Lance huffed, reddening at his nearly disastrous display of clumsiness. Of course he could dance like nobody’s business, but spontaneous klutziness around cute boys had to be a thing. 

“I’m gonna order either the most expensive or the most caffeinated thing on the chalkboard. Place your bets now.”

Keith smiled to himself and turned to walk away. Lance shuffled a little nervously in front of the counter as he realized a very attractive barista had been staring at them throughout the whole exchange. Lance snuck a glance up to the board and realized Keith had been right; there were more variations on latte’s than he had ever seen in his life. 

“Anything I can help you with?” the barista finally piped up. He was about Lance’s height, maybe a bit taller, which always put Lance a little on edge. He wasn’t used to having to look up at other people given that he was pretty tall himself. Even more unnerving and somewhat intimidating, a mane of stark white and silver hair tumbled down his back in a loose braid and icy blue eyes held back sparks of amusement as if Lance were an interesting toy for this barista to mess with. 

Lance got a distinct ‘Princess Elsa’ vibe with the hair color and everything and was forced to bite back a laugh.

“No, uh, just kinda looking for a second. I’m not seeing any café con leche* here so I’m a little lost.”

The barista, Lotor, if the nametag was telling the truth, smiled. “Ah, a Cuban fan. We actually have a café con leche style latte if that sounds,” he paused, and Lance could have sworn he licked his lips, “appealing.”

Um, alright. Was he being flirted with? With Prince Elsa? This was weird. 

Lance laughed nervously. “Yeah, that’s, that’s fine. Un café con leche por favor.”*

UGH that was stupid, but the words were out. Lance hated clichés about bilingual people ‘slipping’ into their native language randomly, but in this case, it was legitimate. As soon as he was old enough to order coffee at the local shop down the street from his house, he always got the same thing. He would say his order to his sister working behind the counter, ‘Un café con leche por favor.’ 

The benefits of having a sibling working the espresso machine meant that he always somehow ~mysteriously~ got a free cookie from the bakery.

Lotor cast him an amused glance. 

“Tú hablas Español?”**

Lance relaxed a little bit. “Sí, pero, ya no mucho.”*^

Lotor nodded as he fixed Lance’s latte. “Yeah, there’s not as much opportunity here. French though, you get a lot of that.”

Lance frowned. “You speak French?”

Smiling, Lotor fixed Lance with that cat-with-mouse look again. “Oui, I love learning languages. Specifically, the Romance family. Seems a little more lyrical than English, don’t you think?”

Oh jeez. Yep, Prince Elsa was coming onto him. 

“Urm, yeah, totally. Learning, awesome. Anyways, my-“

“Yes, who was that you came in with?”

Lotor had finished the latte but was keeping it close enough to him that Lance would have had to lean in in order to reach it. Fine, this is the game they were playing. Lance was getting that drink if it meant singing ‘Let it Go’ and hoping that hit some kind of soft spot in him.

Instead, Lance cranked up the charm, purring, “Why would someone like you be interested in a detail like that?” He finished the question off with a half-quirked grin.

Lotor raised an eyebrow, apparently getting a desirable reaction.

“He’s a regular, only he always comes alone. Just curious why he would suddenly want to bring someone one day.”

Lance leaned slightly over the counter in what he hoped was a low-key flirty way. 

“Apuesta a que te gustaíra, hm?”^

Lotor leaned back and thank the lord pushed the latte close enough to Lance that he could reach it, saying, “Sí, realmente lo haría. Dime?”^^

“I’d like a black coffee please.”

Keith had apparently come back from the bathroom and was standing very, very close next to Lance. 

Lotor’s eyes sparkled with a mixture of annoyance and challenge. 

“Will that be all?”

“Nope!” Keith said with a slight forced cheeriness, “Two toasted everything bagels, cream cheese on the side, thank you.” 

He turned to Lance. “Is the table in the corner ok for you?” he said pointedly, clearly wanting Lotor out of the conversation. Oh lord. Keith was jealous! This was fantastic.

Lance shifted all his attention on Keith, a gesture in body language clearly not lost on Lotor who was looking more irritated by the minute. 

“Oh, for sure. See you in a moment then, thanks love. He made a kissing sound at Keith and turned to go to the table before calling over his shoulder to Lotor, “Muchas gracias cariño!”^* he took a quick sip of the foamy drink and swiped his tongue over his upper lip. “Delicioso.”

Keith looked caught between letting a massive grin break out across his face and an equally strong desire to maintain composure in front of Lotor. Either way, this coffee ‘date’ was proving to be the best idea Keith had had yet.

* - coffee with milk   
** - coffee with milk please   
*^ - Yes, but not very much.   
^ - Wouldn’t you like to know, hm?  
^^ - Yes, I really would. Tell me?  
^* - Thanks a lot honey!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is an aspiring modern artist with a passion for color and a flamboyant personality he believes can win anyone over. But when he meets newcomer Keith in his workshop class, he realizes his classic charms may not be enough to win over this brooding, mysterious artist who doesn’t really seem to follow any style except for his own. Keith could be the key to unlocking Lance’s current crippling artist’s block. Is friendship (or something more) on the horizon for these two artists? Or will competition over a scholarship, secrets, and past conflicts create more barriers than they can overcome?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *angels singing bc the upload was on time* not much to post up here today... just excited about showing you guys what's coming up in the near future... enjoy some more bilingual!Lance and a dash or three of jealous!Keith since I'm sure y'all picked up on that last chapter ;)

“So… Keith,” Lance smiled sweetly over his latte. Keith had led them to a circular table in the corner of the shop in front of a dusty paned window and a windowsill lined with succulents. Curtains draped over the glass, giving the space a secluded feel, as if they were the only ones in the café. 

Keith eyed him with mixed amusement and suspicion. 

“Um, yes?”

Lance took a sultry sip and slid his gaze over to meet Keith’s. 

“You…” he watched Keith closely, weighing his words, “drink black coffee.”

Keith stared at him. “That’s it?”

Lance nodded. “Oh, and I also noticed that you were wildly jealous of our resident Disney queen barista.”

Keith blinked. “Ok, first of all, lactose intolerant. And before you say it, yes, I still eat ice cream. Pain is irrelevant. Second of all, I don’t get jealous. Now eat your bagel.”

Lance grinned as Keith looked down (possibly to hide a growing blush) and took a long sip from his mug. “Why should I obey you? You might have poisoned this bagel for all I know.”

“Shut up and trust me. It’s just a bagel; if I had wanted to kill you I would have done it by now. You already tried the coffee, I could have slipped it in that.”

Again, Lance couldn’t hold back a smile. “Fine. Pass me the cream cheese at least, will ya?”

Keith obliged and reached to his left where he had put the containers. As he passed it over to Lance, Keith briefly fumbled it and Lance caught his hand just before the cream cheese splashed into his coffee. They froze, suspended, each grasping the other’s hand lightly before they broke apart.

Lance may have felt a little heat rise to his face, but that wasn’t important. 

Silence fell over the pair as Lance crunched down into his newly cream-cheesed bagel and admitted to Keith, around a mouthful, “Yeahf, ift’s really goofd.”

Keith cut him a glance. “Bad table manners, McClain. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

Lance swallowed and flashed Keith a toothy grin. “I do in fact, and if you were ever lucky enough to be awarded a kiss from me, you’d be just as cheerful and fun-loving as she is.”

Keith, in the middle of taking a drink, seemed to nearly spit his coffee out at Lance’s words but composed himself enough to avoid a full-on spray.

“I- whatever. Told you the bagels were good.”

“Can confirm. Food critic Keith Kogane hit the nail on the head.”

At that, Keith cracked a smile and took a bite of his own breakfast. 

“Anyway,” Lance continued, “Thanks. For, you know, coffee and everything. It’s been a while since I left my dorm room.”

Oh CRAP what was he saying?? Homebody much?? Lance must have apparently looked surprised enough that Keith noticed, and smiled shyly in response. 

“I wish I could say I was much better, honestly. At least you have a roommate.”

“Yeah, Hunk is my best friend. He’s great, but most of the time he’s either studying or over with Pidge working on some project. Hunk’s not really an artist type of guy per say… but he does listen. I’ll give him that.”

Keith nodded, seeming to be genuinely interested. “I don’t think I would have done very well in dorms” he laughed, with a note of bitterness pinging on the edge, “I don’t make friends very easily.”

Lance feigned shock, throwing his hands in the air. “What? Keith Kogane? The warmest and cuddliest person I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting?”

Keith giggled and swatted Lance’s hands down. “Hilarious. We can’t all be freaking social…” he trailed off.

“Butterflies?” Lance supplied.

“I was going to say ‘hummingbird’ because they’re the ones who always look like they’re tripping on acid when they’re flying.”

“I feel like that was an insult but frankly I’m ok with a wigged-out hummingbird being my spirit animal.”

Shaking his head, Keith took another sip of his coffee, and Lance made a face. “Ugh, I get being lactose intolerant, but how can you drink that stuff? It’s like tar thinned out with runoff water!”

Keith, apparently bewildered, gestured at Lance’s drink. “Um?? What are you drinking??”

Lance did his best to look offended as he replied, “Absolutely not. You’re not comparing boring black coffee with this mastery. Have you even tried café con leche before, you Neanderthal?”

“Drama queen. Come on, slide it over here if it’ll get you down off that latte-fueled high horse of yours.”

Lance obliged, pushing his cup across the table. “Little sips, Mr. ‘Pain-is-Irrelevant’. You need to pay attention to the ‘leche’ part of this whole creation.” 

Keith snuck in an eye-roll before taking a small sip of Lance’s drink. Immediately, he wrinkled his nose and set the mug down.

“It’s so sweet!”

“I can see how this might be difficult for a little salt-shaker like you to understand, but some people enjoy the sweet things in life,” Lance swiped his pinky across the foamy surface of his latte and licked it off while keeping eye contact with Keith, “like me.”

Seeing Keith fumbling for words, Lance added, “Take that whatever way you’d like.”

“How about out the door and back to your dorm?”

“That is no way to treat a guest. Go sit in the corner.”

“We are in the corner, Lance.”

“Good point. A worse punishment will be inflicted. Go sit out in the middle of everyone.”

“Oh my god, Lance, I’m gonna kill you.”

“Not before you’ve had your time out… in front of your hipster coffee-mates.”

Keith burst out laughing, and Lance was really starting to get obsessed with hearing that. It felt good to make Keith laugh, like he had always wanted to but held back. 

“Please,” Lance found himself thinking, “don’t hold back.”

~~~~~

They finished their coffee and Lance followed Keith up to the counter to pay. Lotor was still shamelessly making eyes at Lance, and Keith looked like he was about to murder him as he handed his card over. It was sweet, really.

Keith had picked up the pen to sign the untorn receipt just as Lance’s phone rang. 

“Sorry, I’ll just- oh jeez, it’s my mom. Hold on a second Keith, this could be a minute. Both Lotor and Keith stopped what they were doing, each one too interested in this phone call to finish up the transaction. Maybe the shared desire to snoop was the first thing that Lance’s flirty barista and his 'emo BFF' had in common. Wasn’t this becoming a cozy little party!

Reluctantly, Lance answered his still-ringing phone. “Hey, mom, sí, en realidad estoy ocupado en este momento, sí, sí. No! Mamá! No estoy en una cita! Podemos hablar despusé!? Sí, te llamare. Hablamos pronto, te amo.”* 

Sighing, Lance looked up and put his phone away.

Keith seemed to be in a state of shock, while Lotor took the opportunity to lean over the counter and fix Lance with a stare. “No una cita, hm?”**

Lance gave him a smile. “Actually, I believe the correct translation is,” he batted his lashes as Lotor raised an eyebrow smugly, “ninguno para ti.”*^

Lotor looked vexed, but still somehow the determination in his gaze made it seem like he still thought he had a chance.

Keith appeared utterly perplexed, but blissfully, he had paid and they were almost free. Lance shrugged, “Then again, I could be wrong. Would French be a better translation for you? I wouldn’t want my meaning to get lost.”

Tearing off the end of Keith’s receipt with so much contained malice that Lance thought he might be envisioning Lance’s head instead, Lotor slid the paper across the bar. “No, thank you. Have a nice day.”

Lance beamed and whirled Keith around to face the door, leaving a hand on his back to make sure he didn’t turn around to bite Lotor’s head off or anything. Unfortunately, their irritatingly persistent barista wasn’t going to let him get off that easy. A low wolf whistle followed Lance as he walked out the door.

“Pero, me gusta un defacío…”^ 

Lance rolled his eyes and dramatically sighed. “Tengo noticias para ti, descuento Elsa: no va a suceder. Adios!”^^ 

As they rushed out the doors closed behind them, Lance noticed Keith’s utterly lost look and steered them towards a park bench. Maybe a little third-party translation wouldn’t hurt…

 

* - Hey mom, yes, I’m actually busy at the moment, yes, yes. No! I’m not on a date! Can we talk later?! Yes, I will call you. We’ll talk soon, I love you.  
** - Not a date, hm?  
*^ - None for you   
^ - But, I do like a challenge  
^^ - I have news for you, discount Elsa, not gonna happen. Goodbye!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is an aspiring modern artist with a passion for color and a flamboyant personality he believes can win anyone over. But when he meets newcomer Keith in his workshop class, he realizes his classic charms may not be enough to win over this brooding, mysterious artist who doesn’t really seem to follow any style except for his own. Keith could be the key to unlocking Lance’s current crippling artist’s block. Is friendship (or something more) on the horizon for these two artists? Or will competition over a scholarship, secrets, and past conflicts create more barriers than they can overcome?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> casually... updating... 3 minutes until midnight.  
> this is fine.
> 
> anyways thank you all for the lovely comments and such, I need to step up my game if I'm going to have enough chapters to keep posting this thing.
> 
> ENJOY!!

Keith was laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe. “You called him-“, he gasped for air between giggles, “a discount Elsa?! In Spanish?? That you apparently speak fluently?!”

Lance laughed along with Keith, leaning against the side of the park bench they had found right outside the café. 

“Well… I didn’t have a lot of time, so I couldn’t break out my best material. And oh my gosh, you’ve literally heard me speak Spanish! Here, I’ll give you an example: usted tonto!”

Keith collapsed into another fit of laughter. “Well, I’d heard you say a couple phrases! I can do that and I’ve only taken a year of it in high school!”

Lance scoffed, sniffing in disgust. “You, sir, have severely misjudged me. As it happens, I’m not only dashing and wildly intelligent, but also bilingual. Spanish was my first language. I thought you might have gotten that clue when I told you that little detail about being from Cuba!”

Blushing, unreleased laughter caused Keith’s shoulders to shake with the force of holding it back. “Just surprised that you managed to strike up casual conversation with our thirsty barista and managed to savagely roast him all in a language other than English.”

Despite himself, Lance’s chest warmed with the compliment. This usually wasn’t the reaction he got when people found out he was bilingual.

“I’m surprised you’re not saying ‘Oh! Say something in Spanish now!’” Lance admitted.

Keith gave him a ‘seriously’ look, saying, “Well even if I wanted to, I did kind of hear you have whole chat, so I feel like we’ve crossed that bridge.”

“Fine, I see your point. I’ll learn French before we go again so that I can confuse him before I kindly shut him down again.”

Keith finally released a peal of laughter, “When we go again, you’ll have to promise me to shut him down so hard I never have to pay for a latte again!”

Smiling, Lance took the outstretched hand Keith had offered him and shook it. “Deal. It’s a date.”

They froze, hands still connected. Oh lord why had Lance said that?? Now Keith would be weirded out… flirting was something entirely different than bringing up the word ‘date’ to a boy who you just had an accidental sleepover with. 

Keith managed to diffuse the thoughts racing through Lance’s head with a small smile, letting their hands drop to the empty space on the bench. 

“It’s a date.” Keith said, his voice a notch above a whisper. He looked up, his face a picture of that same hopeful shyness Lance had read on his face just yesterday when he showed up at his dorm room. The very same dash of a blush streaked across his cheeks, or that color could have risen from the windy day. 

No matter what had caused it, Keith looked at peace. Totally natural sitting in this park with Lance. Keith finally slowly removed his hand from Lance’s, and Lance immediately felt the lack of warmth. His hands were always freezing cold, but Keith’s, despite being cut-up and calloused, were deceptively warm. 

“You’ve got nice hands,” Lance breathed before he could stop himself. 

His conscious was shouting at him to stop talking, but the words were out and he couldn’t retract them again. Lance’s fumbling of words didn’t seem off-putting to Keith, who continued to smile as the wind whipped his scarf behind his head. 

“Thanks,” he responded, bowing his head and allowing a few strands of black hair to fall into his face now that the breeze had passed. “They can hold a paintbrush. That’s what’s important.”

Lance studied his expression. “You really love it, don’t you? It’s real for you. Not just… I don’t know, something to do until you get a ‘serious’ life.”

Keith met Lance’s gaze once again, indigo eyes sparked with passion Lance had seen precious few times before. “Well, you know how it is,” he began, searching Lance’s face.

“I do?” Lance asked, half-serious about getting an answer.

Bobbing his head, Keith gave a small grin. “I’ve heard you talk about painting. I know it’s your life too.”

His smile faded, replaced by a look of set determination. “I think we have that in common.” Keith paused and cast his gaze downward, biting his lip before he continued, “We like to add color to our worlds.”

Not entirely confident in what he was doing, Lance tentatively stretched his hand out to rest gently on top of Keith’s.

“I think both of our worlds could use a little color, don’t you think?”

Keith’s eyes flew from Lance’s hand on top of his to Lance’s face.

“Yeah. I do think so.” 

~~~~~

They stayed on that park bench for longer than Lance would like to admit. Keith told him about his hometown, how he had bounced around in foster care until he ended up with Shiro and his family. His voice always softened when he talked about his adoptive parents and Shiro. Lance wanted to hang onto every word.

Keith told him about getting kicked out of old school for fighting with the headmaster’s son about a campus art show Keith had placed first in in while said spoiled rich kid had only come in second. So, even though the other kid had started the fight, Keith had gotten expelled. 

“I didn’t even hit him that hard! The kid couldn’t throw a punch to save his life, how was I supposed to know he’d get a black eye?”

Lance shook his head. “Keith, you bad boy. Getting into fights, cutting class before that. You’re a regular delinquent.”

Keith looked away, embarrassed. “I- ugh, I don’t even like fights. That kid picked on me all year, like I was back in high school. I expected him to at least be able to stop a right hook if he was going to come at me like that.”

Waving his finger teasingly in the air, Lance tsk-tsk’ed disapprovingly. “First mistake: never assume the antagonist in question can fight. Chances are, they don’t even expect you to hit back; they’re prepared for you to just get scared and scram.”

Keith raised a questioning eyebrow. “You sound like you speak from experience.”

Now it was Lance’s turn to get a little flushed. “Well, I may have been in a scrap or two in my day.”

“’In my day’??” Keith cackled, “You’re not a senior citizen!”

“You’re telling me,” Lance retorted, “I’ve been finding grey hairs recently. Grey. Hairs. And it’s not for aesthetic like Shiro’s!”

Keith’s face was caught between a grimace and a smile. “Half the time I think I was giving him so much grey hair that he just dyed it to cover the inevitable.”

Lance smirked, “You are a handful. I blame this hair travesty entirely on you.”

“Figures. You know, this recent ‘crisis’ of yours might be caused by your mom. I’ve never heard someone talk that fast in Spanish!” Keith said in a teasing tone, but his expression quickly changed to one of concern when he saw Lance’s face cloud over.

“Oh, jeez, Lance I’m sorry I didn’t, I wasn’t, I’m sorry I would never have-“ Keith stopped mid-apology as Lance held up a hand and turned to completely face him.

“Keith. Buddy. It’s ok, and it’s not like that. I…” Lance trailed off uncertainly, searching Keith’s face.

“Lance…” Keith said softly, “I really don’t mind, you’re not inconveniencing me by talking about your family troubles. You’re not a burden,” he hesitated before continuing, but forged ahead, “you’re my friend.”

Warmth filled Lance’s chest like a balloon of anxiety had just popped and released calm all the way down to his toes. He took a deep breath, savoring those final words like they were his last meal. Keith could say all he wanted about not being good at making friends, and his uncertainty was definitely noticeable when they had first met, but he really cared. Almost too much to ask for in a friend, and God forbid, anything more.

“I really miss her. My siblings, my grandma, my home. Everything about it. Especially the ocean, oh God, I miss that. We used to have picnics with the whole family and my mom would always be on my back about wearing sunscreen, and we’d have watermelon, and my brothers and sister would run and jump off the side of the boardwalk, and we’d spend whole days out by the pier…” Lance trailed off again.

“But- but it’s not even fair for me to be complaining to you about this! I… here I am telling you about how great my family is after you’ve told me about your life. Just, I mean, just forget it, I don’t-“

This time, it was Keith who cut Lance off, but he silenced him with a look.

“Lance. You don’t have to feel guilty,” Keith said gently, “your family sounds amazing. I want to hear more about them. Please, don’t ever… not say something because you think it’s ‘not fair’ or whatever. You have just as much of a right to miss your family as I do, and you don’t have to apologize for it.”

Lance could feel the hot prick of tears behind his eyes as he listened to Keith’s soft advice. He could almost identify the exact spots in his chest where it felt like his heart was being unraveled. What was wrong with him? This was almost like… he was really starting to fall for Keith. In this ridiculously short time, his feelings were starting to change from… adolescent infatuation, to a serious longing. An ache that had taken root and didn’t seem to be shifting anytime soon.

Probably much to Keith’s surprise, Lance let out a short, but quiet laugh. “I’ve got a whole afternoon and nothing to do with it. How’s that for a social,” he glanced at Keith, “’hummingbird’, as someone once told me.”

Keith snagged his lip, just like he always did when he was nervous, and nodded. 

“He must be a smart kid to say something as inspired as that.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Ha, ha. Everyone seems to think so but I’m not so sure.”

Keith grinned shyly. “Oh no, don’t you go there Mr. Top-of-the-Class hotshot. If you want to talk about mistaken impressions, I’ve got all day.”

Lance couldn’t help himself; he felt a spark of nervous energy as he straightened his back and took in a sharp breath.

“I… wouldn’t mind doing that, actually.”

Those beautiful, soft, indigo eyes brightened like a drop of Lance’s ocean had just flown into them. Keith gave a swift nod, sure of himself in a way Lance had only seen when he was painting. 

“Look at that. Lance McClain has plans after all.”

Lance laughed, relief washing away the bubble of anxiety threatening to pop around his heart. 

“Hey! I can take you down, you know! Kittens don’t scare me!”

Keith feigned offense, “I thought you left those days behind! I make one joke and suddenly you want to fight me?!”

“So you already know that I’m a skilled streetfighter! You’re quaking in your boots!”

“Well now I’ve got proof that you like picking fights. I’m not afraid of you, you like me far too much to do anything.”

Hearing that, Lance felt that now-familiar ache rise in his chest. A big part of him wanted to sweep the smaller boy up in his arms and never let anything bad touch him again. Except, he supposed, for Lance himself…

“Um… we could maybe start those plans by… figuring out directions?”

Keith gave him a curious look. “Directions? Directions, where?”

Lance cleared his throat, very, very sure he was blushing. “There’s, well, there’s a sort of art gallery happening downtown and today is the last day to see the exhibits, and… um, Hunk was going to go until he found out that there’s an exam this Monday that he had to cram for and I still have the tickets…”

Indigo eyes sparking with interest, Keith nodded vigorously. “Yes! Um, I mean, yeah, sure, it’s uh, it’s cool.” A blush was beginning to rise on Keith’s cheeks as well.

Smirking, Lance drawled, “No need to try to keep it cool around me, Kogane. I know you’re just as much as an art nerd as I am. Your secret’s out: the cool artist façade won’t last in this house.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Oh, fine. But I really wanted to see this exhibit, so give me your phone and I’ll go to google maps.”

Lance obliged and forked his phone over, watching Keith busily type in the address after Lance gave him his ticket. 

“Got it!” Keith exclaimed a few moments later, “It opens up pretty soon, do you want to start walking?” the excitement obvious in his voice.

Lance stood and grandly swept his hand out, “You first, map boy.”

Keith stood as well, gently shifting Lance’s outstretched arm to face the other direction. “Close, but not quite right.”

Sighing and dropping his hand, Lance allowed a giddy smile to unroll across his face. He took a couple skip-steps in the direction Keith was pointing, and then broke out into a full spring once Keith nodded and checked his phone.

“LAST ONE THERE’S PAYING FOR COFFEE NEXT TIME!” Lance shouted over his shoulder, thrilled by the fast approaching sound of combat boots beginning to thud on the pavement behind him. 

Truthfully, Lance wouldn’t even care if he lost. That just meant that he was obligated to getting coffee with Keith again. He could accept that fate, Lance thought, as the crisp air rushed past him. Nevertheless, Lance McClain wasn’t going to get beaten in a race by a boy he nicknamed ‘Kitty’. 

He could see Keith’s scarf whipping in the corner of his eye and pumped his legs faster. 

“IT’S ON!” he heard Keith shout from not too far behind him. 

It was on, for sure.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is an aspiring modern artist with a passion for color and a flamboyant personality he believes can win anyone over. But when he meets newcomer Keith in his workshop class, he realizes his classic charms may not be enough to win over this brooding, mysterious artist who doesn’t really seem to follow any style except for his own. Keith could be the key to unlocking Lance’s current crippling artist’s block. Is friendship (or something more) on the horizon for these two artists? Or will competition over a scholarship, secrets, and past conflicts create more barriers than they can overcome?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: long summary ahead. proceed with caution. (but actually please read if you're at all curious as to why there's been an FOB-worthy hiatus regarding this fic)
> 
> -
> 
> -
> 
> -
> 
> so i wanted to give a little bit of an explanation for my recent non-uploading...  
> there have been a lot of very serious family things going on in my household right now - earth-shattering, serious serious stuff. we're working through it, but it brought back some of my favorite little friends, including anxiety and depression (three cheers . . ). not unlike most young people out there anymore, i've struggled with those two demons and have been totally and completely unmotivated to write anything even remotely happy or cheerful. so, i didn't.
> 
> here's the turning point.
> 
> i know there's been intense drama in the voltron fandom and everyone's either disappointed or is feeling cheated, so basically this chapter is my way of getting back to who our lovely little paladudes are: human (or mostly human, in Keith's case), and in need of a little companionship, cannon or not. writing about their humanity has really been an excellent outlet for me, both emotionally and mentally. i missed thinking in a headspace that wasn't entirely my own, and i cannot express to all of you how therapeutic it has been to write about something not steeped in gloom and doom, which, although slightly expressed in this chapter, will not become the overall tone of this fic. hang in there. 
> 
> as a closing note, i just wanted to say thank you for making it past the first line of this mini-novel and for leaving kudos, comments, or simply just looking at my little slice of life right here. life will get hard sometimes, and this community and fic has reminded me a great deal about healthy distractions and giving us something to root for. so, that's my lengthy explanation. enjoy this chapter, and bear with me as i endeavor to upload on time. i know how frustrating it is to have stories with no endings, and i want to see these goofy dudes through to have an ending suited to the defenders of the universe. much love and prayers for days with a little more sunshine 
> 
> -somerainycosmos xxx

“I WIN!!” Keith exclaimed, leaping up to tap the street sign on the corner.

Lance stumbled in a few steps behind him, panting, “No fair!  You cheated!”

Keith grinned triumphantly, leaning nonchalantly against the post.  “Excuse me, it’s not cheating if I knew a shortcut.”

“You got to see the directions!  You had an advantage!”

“You got a head start!  That’s the textbook definition of an advantage!”  
  
“You’re smaller than me!  That automatically means there’s less wind resistance because you don’t have as much surface area!”

“I’m not that much shorter than you, Lance!!”

“Oh yeah?  Tell that to the man with the ‘you have to be this tall’ sign standing outside the gallery.  Looks like Keefy isn’t going to be getting into any art showings until he gets his growth spurt!”

“THAT’S IT.”

Keith lunged at Lance and, before Lance could throw him off, _climbed his back_ like a spider monkey, wrapped his legs around Lance’s waist, and secured his arms across Lance’s chest.  Keith was now a solid head taller than Lance as he clung there triumphantly, freeing one of his hands to knuckle the top of Lance’s head.  

“AGHH!  PEQUEÑO DIABLO!  ALÉJATE DE MÍ!”*

Keith cackled deviously, clinging tighter to Lance and avoiding Lance’s half-hearted attempts to dislodge him, “Ha!  Joke’s on you!  I know what diablo means!  And I’ve got news for you: Shiro is easily three inches taller than you, I have training in this!  If being a diablo-“ he grunted in concentration,”- means you have to body-slam me into the pavement, then diablo be I!”  
  
Lance, with newfound conviction, spotted a patch of grass not far from the street corner.  With Keith still on his back, he dashed over to the spot and bent forward to somersault Keith over his back and off.  With a surprised yelp, Keith came tumbling down, but still managed to land on his feet as Lance straightened back up.

“’Diablo be I’?” Lance deadpanned, raising an eyebrow at Keith, whose face was flaming and was trying desperately to straighten his jacket (most likely questioning his most recent decision to… _mount…_ Lance).

“I- shut up.” Keith mumbled, still fidgeting.  “I get competitive alright?”

Smirking, Lance watched Keith fiddle with his scarf and smooth his hair out of his face.  No one should be allowed to be this cute.  No one.  

“Now that you’ve finished your little bout of madness,” Lance began, absolutely _loving_ the furious blush sweeping across Keith’s face, “I should remind you that I have multiple, younger, shorter siblings.  So I have counter-attacks for all of your shenanigans.”  He bent down slightly and tilted his face towards Keith’s, watching him squirm.  “I shall best you, Keith Kogane.  One way or another.”  
  
Lance figured he had done his job when Keith stared defiantly into his eyes for a beat and then covered his face with his fingerlessly-gloved hands in embarrassment.

“Next time you say I cheated I’m not gonna caught off guard because you try to flip me over your back.  Shiro did the same thing when I was 12 and I only let it happen once.” Keith mumbled through his hands.

“Sure, Keith.” Lance cooed, “but you’ll never win.  The only reason you won last time was because you-“ Keith removed his hands from his face to glare at Lance, “was… because of aerodynamics.”

He earned a half-grin, half-grimace from Keith.  
  
“Now come on!” Lance said, excitement seeping into his voice.  “We have a gallery to ransack.”

~~~~~  
  
They were greeted at the entrance by a stoic, seemingly disapproving guard who had undoubtedly witnessed Lance and Keith’s public display of… rivalry.  Nevertheless, he waved them in without too much trouble.  Keith seemed a little surprised by the mishmash of art that lay behind the doors.

“Um… Lance?” Keith began, looking around, “What type of art gallery did you say this was again?”  
  
Lance gave him a lopsided grin, watching Keith take in the scene around them.  “I didn’t, that’s the only way I knew I’d get you here.  It’s local art!  These exhibits are from artists all around our area, so it’s kind of a hodgepodge show.”

Lance hesitated, trying to read Keith’s expression.  “Thoughts?”

Luckily, Keith’s eyes were sparkling with excitement.  “Are you kidding?” he asked, a note of disbelief in his voice, “The last art school I went to only took us to stuffy, classical exhibits from artists I had never even heard of!  This is awesome, thank you Lance.”  

Keith lightly bumped his shoulder into Lance’s as a little gesture of thanks, and Lance felt his pulse leap up from the unexpected contact. 

Laughing nervously, Lance smiled softly down at the beaming boy beside him.  “I need to get you out of the house more often, then.”

“I’d like that.” Keith replied.

Lance tugged on Keith’s jacket, pulling him along.  “Come on.  Time’s a-wastin’ Kitty,” Lance declared, ignoring Keith’s huff of irritation.  

The gallery was spacious and diverse.  Artists of all different styles had put their work on display, and the Lance did his best to give Keith some background to the artists he was aware of, some of whom even went to their University.  

Keith didn’t say much as they drifted around, and Lance did most of the talking.

“This artist, she does all galaxy prints.  I’ve heard she literally throws paint at the canvas like Jackson Pollock or something.  Oh!  And this artist is actually really cool.  He has a garden where he presses flowers and uses them to make faces, like this one.  I’m trying to get him to do mine, he’s in my ‘History of Classical Art’ course, but he won’t bite.  

Keith nodded, watching Lance gesture and talk animatedly. 

Lance paused briefly, spotting a display he recognized.  “Ah, this is one of my favorite collections.  See the mosaics and ceramics over there?  That’s Hunk’s almost-girlfriend’s exhibit.  He doesn’t have the guts to ask her out yet, but Shay’s is really talented.  She wears Birkenstocks and lives vegan.  She’s really rad.  Anyway, her stuff is pretty amazing.  Shea’s gonna do really well once more people start seeing her projects.”

Sighing contentedly, Lance looked around.  “What else do you want to see?”

Keith considered this for a moment.  “What’s your favorite?”

Lance, lost in thought while looking at Shay’s exhibit, froze.  “Um, what?”

Keith tilted his head and seemed not to notice Lance’s confusion.  “What’s your favorite exhibit?  You’ve been playing tour guide for me the whole time we’ve been in here.  What have you liked?”

Considering this, Lance turned on his heel and started towards the back of the exhibit, Keith hurrying to keep up.

“Slow down!” Keith called from behind him, but Lance forged ahead.  He came to a halt in front of a display nestled in the very corner of the gallery.  It was a collection of works, ranging in color and sizes, all depicting futuristic landscapes complete with rockets and astronauts greeting aliens in the backgrounds.  Lance had always liked this artist; her style was very different from any he had seen, and she seemed to blend all styles of art into her canvases in a very surrealist, make-your-head-spin-there’s-so-much-going-on way. 

“I always wanted to go to space when I was little.” Lance said, gazing at the canvases.  This is kind of what I imagined it to be in the my six-year-old brain, so it’s nice to see someone putting it in art, you know?  I actually know this artist, Nyma,” Lance rubbed his hands together tentatively, “and I like her work, but-

“LANCE!” a shrill, high pitched voice broke the air as the two boys started and looked around, Lance not having a moment of preparation before a girl with two long, dyed-yellow braids, purple eye makeup, and dressed what looked to be combat gear nearly tackled him. 

“Hi… Nyma.  Great to see you again,” Lance stated, caught off guard and already anxious.  Awesome, the exact artist he didn’t want to see tending to their exhibit.  Why couldn’t she have been elsewhere??  Lance could have explained their history to Keith without Nyma being… well, Nyma.  She was unpredictable and had a reputation of jealousy and manipulation.  Far too late to find out, Lance had had enough experience with that particular personality trait to not trust her entirely.  He was just silently praying that-  
  
His train of thought was derailed as Nyma glued herself to Lance’s side, purring, “So, long time no see, Loverboy Lance.  Thought you’d never come back to see my work!”

Keith frowned, eyes darting between the two of them.  “Loverboy Lance?”

Nyma giggled, a sound that turned Lance’s stomach.  He knew that giggle, and it never meant anything good.

“Yep!  He’s such a darling, isn’t he?  He met me at my first gallery opening, he wouldn’t stop talking to me.  Flirting and charming, so I nicknamed him that!”

Keith smiled thinly, and the twisting in Lance’s gut got worse.  This wasn’t how he had looked with Lotor; that was more annoyance than anything else.  There was a storm brewing behind Keith’s eyes.  Lance didn’t want to risk ruining this perfectly wonderful day with Keith just because Nyma was deciding to be a problematic flirt who had already played his ass months ago.  
  
“He’s certainly charming when he wants to be.” Keith said, a note of equal parts anger and hurt seeping into his syllables.  
  
No no no no no, Lance had to fix this.  Before he could get a word in edgewise however, Nyma brought a hand up to his face and ran it along his jawbone, staring at him like a panther toying with a particularly fascinating antelope. 

“He certainly is…” she crooned, Lance squirming and desperately trying to read Keith’s facial expression, but he had gone blank.  No emotion clouded his normally clearly expressive eyes.   
  
“Hey,” Nyma continued, apparently unaware of Keith’s presence and/or affiliation with Lance, “that boyfriend that was there at the gallery?  We totally broke up, and I’ve been thinking about you all the time since then.”  
  
“I- I—” Lance started, but was abruptly silenced with a slender finger being placed on his lips.  Nyma batted her eyelashes in a way that would have undoubtedly sent Lance running back to her shoes to grovel a few months ago, but now, just made him want to throw her off of him and drag Keith out of there while there was still hope for an explanation.  
  
“Shhh, don’t worry.  I feel awfully bad about that black eye he gave you and wondered if…” she paused, letting her gaze roam freely up and down Lance, “there was some way I could maybe make it up to you?”  
  
Alright, that was it.  She could flirt and be desperate and do whatever the hell she wanted to with someone else, but this was just crazy. 

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Lance practically tossed her off from him and took a couple steps back for good measure before saying, “Oh, come on.  You were pretty grateful to that boyfriend a few months ago for ‘defending your honor’ when he punched me.  I’m not gonna ‘come back’ to a girl I was never even with!  And if you haven’t noticed, I’m actually here with someone, so please, stop acting like you miss something we never had, ok??“

Nyma looked less hurt and more annoyed, as if she just wanted to have the victory of Lance saying that he’d take her up on her offer, whatever in this cursed world that entailed.  
  
Lance didn’t care.  This girl had the nerve to drape herself over him, call him nicknames, and act like they had some passionate love affair interrupted by a jealous partner.  In reality, Nyma had just led him on to get her boyfriend’s attention.  Lance was collateral damage, and he didn’t have to sit and listen to crap about how she missed a pawn in her little chess game.

Still not quite believing what had just happened and anxious to get out of the gallery as soon as possible, Lance ignored the curious stares of gallery-goers and took a shaky breath to compose himself.  She kept opening and closing her mouth again, like she was trying to find something to say but couldn’t decide.  

“Um, Lance, hate to _bother_ you… but the person you’re apparently ‘here’ with isn’t here anymore.  Karma sucks, I guess.”

Lance had to bite back another full-on explosion of anger at her petty retort, but before he could get a word out, her statement clicked.

_Keith._

In his outburst, Lance had been so caught up in surprise that he even had the guts to rail on Nyma and the overwhelming desire to get out of there before permanent damage was done, Keith’s silence had stretched on a worrying amount of time.

He whirled around, fully prepared to see Keith standing right where he had been before, understandably angry but at least willing to listen.

Instead, he was greeted with empty silence and hollow pit of regret as he realized Nyma’s words had been truthful.

Keith was gone.

 

*Little devil!  Get off of me!


End file.
